Where Reason Stops
by MyShakingKnees
Summary: According to ancient Chinese tradition; If you save someone's life, you're responsible for them for the rest of their existence. Edward took the words to heart. Beware: dark themes ahead. Rated M. Light Dom/sub-dynamics. ExB.
1. Where Reason Stops for Boring Men

**_Where Reason Stops_**

_According to old Chinese tradition; If you save someone's life, you're responsible for them for the rest of their existence. Edward took the words to heart. Dark themes, mildly __D/s-oriented. M._

_***_

_Okay, so I've never really done this before. This is solely an experiment. I don't know if I will continue this or not, and if I do... I'm a slow, slow writer. _

_I do hope this little story is enjoyable, though. _

_Disclaimer: The names belong to S. Meyer and I don't know anyone at Goldman Sachs._

_***_

It was a bit windy up here, wasn't it?

She pulled the soft, wool coat closer to her body, even though she could care less about the biting cold that stealthily sneaked its way into her skin through the fabric.

It was early spring in New York.

She balanced unsteadily on the edge of the concrete, idly wondering if she wasn't a bit of a drama queen after all. Not that it would ever show, she mused.

She imagined her body, crushed by the sheer force of gravitation when she collided with the asphalt... perhaps on the sidewalk. Or the road. Would there be blood? Or just a disfigured, unidentifiable piece of skin and bones?

She turned her thoughts from the somewhat gory pictures that entered her mind. She had never been good with blood.

That was the reason that she rather appeared to be a drama queen and attention whore, than going the easy way with a few slits to her wrists.

She stared down at the street beneath the building, and almost felt... powerful. The big all-American cars and the yellow cabs were like little obnoxious ants down there. She imagined how it would look if she fell down from the skies and hit the windshield of some poor, hippie-driver's cab.

What a sight.

She giggled.

No one had ever accused her of being sane, had they? She sobered at the thought and sniffled in the cold.

This was it.

She felt a little dizzy, but other than that and the slight nausea it caused, she was fine. She wasn't scared, or excited or happy. Just numb. She really was past feeling anything put pain.

She squinted down again, and held herself against the rail she had climbed over with much trouble. She wasn't a very gracious girl.

Her hands were already cold, as if Death had already claimed them as his, and she released the fence. She was now balancing delicately on the _edge to the abyss_.

She wasn't poetic either. Not really.

Suddenly a very unwelcome thought sprang to mind. Would Goldman Sachs get a terribly bad reputation after this? She really didn't want to cause any trouble for them. Perhaps she should have chosen some place more isolated than this huge building on Broad Street.

But what did they say... that all PR is good PR? Was that true?

She supposed that they wouldn't be very pleased with her, though she would definitely not be in any trouble.

She wouldn't _be_ at all.

But of course, just like with everything she had ever attempted, she failed with her plan of _not being_.

Two hands clamped down roughly on her shoulders and she let out a yelp of surprise.

"Are you out of your fucking mind, you stupid little girl?" a male voice spoke from behind her, a bit louder than necessary, despite the wind. In an awkward bend she was swiftly hauled over the rail, and set back on the steady concrete floor on shaky legs.

Her thoughts were jumbled and shocked as she was pushed against it again, _hard_.

She was supposed to be _dead_.

"What were you thinking? Of all the idiotic things I've ever-," the mysterious man suddenly stopped. She stared down at her flat-booted feet, not really willing to look at him just yet. This was actually quite embarrassing. He had caught her attempting _suicide_. She felt herself blush pink.

"You could use a good, hard whipping. This is insane."

Her eyes involuntarily darted up to meet his. _What_ did he just say? She found herself staring into pretty, green eyes, even though they for the moment were blazing with anger. She shrank back as much as possible against the steel behind her. Whipping? Was _he_ out of his mind?

A very pretty mind, if the outside said anything about the inside. He was handsome, she noticed through her shock. In that classical Mr. Darcy-way. All high cheekbones and sharp jaw and pouty lips. Perhaps he was around thirty years old.

He stared down at her, seeming transfixed on her face, though still furious, and looked like he considerated something. She wasn't good at reading people. There wasn't _anything_ she was good at. Except for wallowing in self-pity.

She let out another yelp when he leaned down and hugged her thighs, just to fling her over his shoulder.

A dizzy while later down stairs and corridors, she was sat down on a black leather coach, surprisingly gently. The man towered over her, glaring down at her. He looked like an ominous scyscraper himself, in that black suit and an impeccably knotted tie in the same colour.

Then he dragged a hand through bronze locks, as if irritated and distraught. He now wore a blank expression that made her wonder what was going on. She blushed and straightened her coat, picking at invisible dust particles.

"Were you going to jump?" he asked quietly, controlled.

She nervously tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. It would be best to lie, wouldn't it? _No, I was just admiring the view Mr... no, _sir_. _She didn't know his name.

"No," she answered and grimaced at the taste of dishonesty.

"Don't you dare lie to me, girl," he growled, frustrated. "Answer me. Correctly."

Her jaw dropped, and she felt strangely like a gold fish in that moment, one without gills, choking on water. _Correctly? She could understand _'honestly'_... _Maybe he was insane. Then they would at least have one thing in common, she mused.

"I think I have to go," she stated nervously and stood up, getting too close to the man for comfort. He pushed her back down with his hands on her shoulders. They felt almost breakable in his grip. It wasn't exactly rough, but not gentle either.

"Stay there until I'm done speaking to you," he hissed through clenched teeth, very obviously still enraged.

She swallowed hard and nodded, much too meekly. She took her time to look around the office she was in as he continued to try and burn holes in her with his gaze. It was a nice room, not too big and not too small. Not too old-fashioned and not too ultra-modern. An oak desk was the biggest piece of furniture, and on the edge of it stood a brass-sign reading:

_Edward Cullen - Global Head of Compliance_

She couldn't help but giggle... _compliance_. Hah. Her amusement was short-lived though, for she was very unceremoniously pulled back up from the couch, shaken with vigor and dropped down again.

"You are the most infuriating, suicidal little girl I've ever seen," he growled and pulled harshly at his hair. She winced. Then she stared down at her hands, wiping them on her coat. This was getting dangerous, but she just didn't have it in her to care. No fight or flight instinct. No sense of self-preservation.

But she certainly didn't enjoy being called infuriating, and couldn't understand what she had done that was so horrible that it caused him to fume with anger at her. She bit her lip to prevent any tears from forming. She hadn't cried for so long, and she wasn't about to start now.

"Are you going to answer my question like a good girl or do I have to put you across my knee?"

She flinched twice, the first time because of the icy, threatening tone of his voice, and the second because of his words. Who was this man? And in which century did he grow up? Apparently she was quiet for too long, and _Edward _sat down next to her on the couch with an irritated sigh.

"Okay, Little Miss Suicidal, if this is what you want. Bend over."

"No," she choked out as he reached for her. He wasn't serious, was he?

He was, she concluded, when she saw the cold determination on his face. Not until now was the situation clear before her. He really would... she couldn't even make herself think the word.

Two big, long-fingered hands clamped down firmly on her hips and she struggled against them

"No, no, _no_, I _was_ going to jump," she rushed out in mild panic. She didn't know him and had no idea what he was capable of. Tears stung in her eyes when he didn't let go of her hips. "Please don't," she tried to plead with him. She suddenly found herself staring into bottomless, green eyes, holding such concern, for _her_, that she choked on thin air. He lifted her very gently and sat her down on his lap, keeping an arm around her.

She blushed and nervously fidgeted with a button on her coat. What did he want with her now? She was fairly certain that she was out of harms way, at least for the time being. But sitting on his lap...

"You silly girl. Why would you do such thing?" he asked her in a hushed whisper and hugged her closer. No one had hugged her for so long. For so, so long. She hesitantly leaned in closer to him and rested her forehead on his shoulder. He smelled good... clean.

"Tell me your name."

He hugged her tighter. She was starved for affection, of any kind. She had no idea who this man was, who had threatened to hit her and manhandled her. But she didn't care. Not when he held her like this. He had to be a good man to hug someone he barely knew.

"Bella."

"Bella," he repeated.

She almost waited for him to say 'beautiful', like slumdog Jacob with his greasy hair used to. Before everything went dark.

"Tell me Bella, how old are you?" he asked silkily and soothingly, and she felt one of his hands cupping the back of her head and press her face more firmly into his shoulder. It was comforting and her throat felt dry and all choked up.

"Twenty," she whispered, but regretted it when their whole situation seemed to appear that much more intimate. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She didn't want to feel. Not ever again. She wanted to be numb or dead for forever.

"You are so young, little Bella. Why would you try to kill yourself? It's insane."

She _whimpered_. It was pathetic, truly, grossly pathetic. If he didn't stop talking, she would cry. She closed her eyes tightly to prevent it.

Was she really so desperate that she would cling to this man like this?

"Don't make that sound. You're breaking my heart," he hushed her and began to stroke her hair. He sighed heavily. "Well, I still have a good mind to spank you red for that stunt. You'll never try something like that again."

She stiffened in his arms when he started talking about_ that _again, and blushed a deep pink against his shoulder. He wouldn't do it...

In the meanwhile, Edward was troubled as he held her tightly. This little meek stranger-girl had tried to off herself. How could she possibly not want to live? There must have been hundreds of people that would miss her; she was lovely.

And he was angry, fuming really. As far as he was concerned, it was the most idiotic, selfish thing anyone could do. He seriously considered whipping her a few with his belt. Then she would at least let those tears fall. He wondered if she had tried to hurt herself before, and tightened his hold on her.

Stupid girl.

Stupid, beautiful girl. Because she was. She reminded him of a porcelain doll... with snow-pale skin and big doe eyes, in the loveliest colour... a deep, brown, dark chocolate-shade. And her long, mahogany hair... he could imagine wrapping it around his hands, controlling her movements as they... no. _Don't go there. _

She was a mess. There was no way he would take advantage of that. But still... he wanted. And it would be so easy; she was far too naïve for her own good. Why she even let him put his hands on her was a mystery to him.

She would be such a good little girl for him. She would do as she was told and she would enjoy his power over her. He could see it in her eyes, how she respected him and the authority he held through her panic.

Edward wasn't really _that _into the BDSM-scene. He didn't own a playroom, he didn't put collars on his girls and he would never consider going to a club like that.

Though he did enjoy submissive young women; the kind that was easy to control and would follow his orders... and he did hold a certain fondness for _spankings_. And a bit of bondage.

He felt perverted. She had just attempted suicide, and here he was, thinking about his own sexual preferences, preferably with her, this young girl he didn't know, in the female lead role.

He shook his head to clear it. She seemed too young and too damaged for him and his ways. He was a relatively patient man, but he didn't have the means, nor the time to handle someone suicidal.

Especially not someone he'd known for roughly 10 minutes.

He was just about to ask the young woman on his lap for her address, so that he could take her home, whip some sense into her, and then leave for the dinner with his parents tonight, when a whirlwind in the form of his sweet assistant barged in.

If he hadn't held on to Bella so tightly, she would probably have flown off his lap in surprise.

Alice, a short, slender girl with business-chic, black, boyish-cut hair and too much caffeine in her body, stared at them in surprise from the door.

He raised his eyebrows.

"Uhm... am I interrupting something Mr Cullen?" she asked and eyed Bella, who was now staring at Alice with her cheeks tinted pink. Alice seemed suspicious and just a little too curious for his liking.

"We were just about to leave, thank you, Alice. You may go home as well," he answered and gently turned Bella's face back into his shoulder by the back of her head. He could feel her trembling in his arms and frowned.

"O-kay," Alice said disbelievingly, eyes wide, and left them, quietly closing the door behind her in a very uncharacteristic move.

He hadn't had a woman who wasn't a business associate in his office in ages.

Edward stood up and released Bella from his hold. He disapprovingly watched her biting her lip roughly and intentionally avoiding his eyes. This girl was not alright. He pulled a hand through his hair and considered what to do now.

He could follow his plan and take her back to wherever she lived, and try to make sure she never attempted something like this again. Or he could... what could he do?

He released a frustrated sigh.

He felt responsible for her, for her life, her well-being, and it irritated him to no end. Why did he have to find her? That was a roof he would never visit to breathe and think and philosophy again. He glared at her and pursed his lips.

Stupid little girl.

"I should go now," she stated softly, visibly upset and stressed. He shook his head grimly. He wouldn't just let her go like that. What if she tried again?

And just like that, his decision was made.

"Let's get out of here. You need to go home and change. We're meeting my parents for dinner tonight."

She stared at him in shock, her little face pale, but he simply grabbed his coat from the hanger just next to the door and opened it for her. She was short, he noticed, and she would barely reach above his bicep if she stood next to him. Which she didn't, as she still seemed frozen in shock.

He rolled his eyes.

"If you don't come here right now, I'll punish you before dinner, instead of after, and that won't be pleasant."

"What?" she squeaked, and immediately raised a hand to cover her mouth. She was adorable, Edward thought.

"Do you really think a _suicide_attempt is going to go unpunished?" he asked her, rhetorically of course, and pointed to the floor in front of him. He didn't even want to think about what could have happened if he hadn't been there. "Come here, now."

She obeyed and let him lead her by a hand on her lower back, down to his car. He buckled her in, and felt angry that she didn't protest. He clearly wouldn't let her go, but she was stupid enough to get a ride with a man she'd known for less than twenty minutes. Hell, did she even know his name? It made him mad.

He drove as fast, and quietly, as possible through the streets until he stopped outside his brownstone house. He got out and walked around to open Bella's door. She was already half-way out and he scowled at her. That behavior would need to change.

"Come here," he insisted and dragged her up the steps and through the door by her very small and very white, but soft, hand. In the old-fashioned vestibule, he smiled and tried to calm down a very stressed Bella.

"I should go home, really, Mr Cullen. This isn't a good idea," she said, and stared down at her feet. He frowned. He was responsible for her now. And she _did_ know his name.

"You will leave when I tell you to leave, Bella. And that won't be until you've proved that this will never happen again."

She peaked up at him from under her lashes, and her eyes were watery with tears, but she blinked them away. His heart ached for her.

"Bella," he said, a bit softer now, "I won't hurt you, and I will most definitely not let you hurt yourself. Now behave yourself and take that coat off."

He broke out in a full, broad smile when she blushed and shifted her weight from foot to foot.

"Bella?"

She mumbled something unintelligible, and fidgeted with the shiny, golden top button. Bella was suddenly scared out of her wits. Here she was, in a strange man's home. A man who had threatened to whip her and then take her to dinner with his parents. And her earlier adventure on the roof was not forgotten.

If she hadn't hesitated, this would never have happened. She would have been gone.

She wouldn't have _been_ at all.

More tears stung her eyes. She didn't want this, but Edward's voice was compelling and bewitching, and the way he so easily commanded her what to do was confusing.

"Bella," he sighed warily, using her name as if he had known her forever, and took a step closer to her. He gently grabbed her hands that were nervously twisting the button from left to right to left. He placed them at her sides and squeezed them tightly, as if to tell her to keep them there. She felt apathetic as he unbuttoned her coat slowly.

But when he started to pull it off, she fully panicked.

"Please don't," she cried out and hugged her arms around her torso in futile protection. He stared at her in shock as she shivered and let a single tear fall down her cheek. She furiously wiped it away.

What was happening to her? She never cried, and she never felt anything. Now she was hurting. She stepped back when he stepped closer; it was a delicate dance that ended with her up against a wall. She tried to look anywhere but at him.

"Bella? I won't do anything to you..."

She glared at him. How dare he say that? He was a stranger, someone who brought her to his home and would do_ godknowswhat _to her. It was a horrible thing to do when she wasn't inte her right mind. And threaten to whip her? Crazy son of a...

She froze when she realized that her fight or flight instinct had kicked in. And suddenly she was even more of a confused, despairing mess. She didn't want to live, so what was the point in running from him?

Because he had said that he would keep her from hurting herself?

"Bella. I won't hurt you. Fuck it... I won't even touch you, okay?" he exclaimed exasperated and pulled at his hair, something that seemed to be a common action in him. He held up his hands in surrender after another tug.

She nodded. What was she to do? _Get out of here and find another suitable skyscraper..._

She stared up at him, nodded again and swiftly pulled off her coat. He blew out a long breath and took it from her. She felt empty again, the threat her instincts apparently feared gone.

Just numb.

Her empty expression after the panic attack scared Edward. He held her coat, but made no move to place it on a hanger. How could she panic one minute and be this limply empty the next? His gaze travelled down her body, over the lovely blue blouse she wore to the little, though far from slutty, black skirt she had matched with flat leather boots.

She wouldn't need to change, he concluded, still very hesitant about bringing her with him to dine with his family. But in this situation, he wouldn't take his eyes off her. He huffed and sighed, proceeding to put away her coat.

When he turned back to her, she was still as stone, and met his eyes tiredly.

"You should just take me home. I have no idea what's going on or what I'm doing here."

He shook his head. Stupid girl.

"Just so you can jump from another building?"

"Yeah," she answered and wiped her forehead and rubbed her eyes.

_Snap._

He'd had enough. She had over-stepped the limit of his patience, and he was _fuming_. He wouldn't be surprised if steam rose from out of his ears. He clenched his fists and jaw to keep from starting yelling at her.

He had other... methods to deal with this kind of defying behavior. He determinedly slung her body over his shoulder and stalked off to his bedroom, where he sat down on the bed and tilted her sideways over his lap.

She was strangely quiet, but he was too far gone to be concerned over that. She was good and compliant when he pulled her skirt up and tights down. He smiled slightly through his fury when he saw the polka-dotted panties she wore.

She didn't make a move to stop him from pulling down those to. Did this girl have absolutely no common sense at all?

... But she did yelp when his hand connected, hard, with snow-white skin.

Again and

again

again, even harder this time.

She sobbed after that one, and he continued with the harder smacks, alternating places, as she did nothing to stop him.

White became pink and pink became dark pink during several minutes until one particular harsh smack at which she cried out loudly.

"No more!"

He quit and released a deep breath. She was sobbing loudly, muffling the sounds in the comforter. His palm stung as he pulled up her underwear and tights again. She didn't deserve any soothing rubbing.

Bella concentrated on nothing but that dull, burning throbbing on her behind as she lay sobbing over his lap.

It was glorious, the pain so relieving and... un-numbing...

And for the first time, in so long, she felt content. Alive, almost.

"Thank you," she breathed, exhaustion sweeping over her, and somewhere far away, she heard disbelieving chuckling.

_Stupid girl_, Edward thought as he picked her up and put her down properly on the bed, her head resting on the decorative pillows on top of the covers. She was completely out of it.

He was relieved, that she hadn't thrown a complete fit or barged out of the house, calling the police. She had thanked him... stupid little Bella. She wouldn't sit down for a day or two, he concluded, thinking about her almost-red, throbbing cheeks. He had been a bit hard on her. And the poor girl was exhausted.

He sat on the edge of the bed and skimmed his eyes over her body. She was petite, and her curves still didn't look womanly, just slight, teenage forms that made her look far too young. He grimaced. She was.

Smouldering flames of guilt and shame licked their way up Edward's spine, and he groaned. What he'd done to her... it wasn't right. It had been in the cloudy mind of fury. Hell, he should never even have brought her here. He should have taken her to the hospital, or called her parents or friends. Perhaps a boyfriend?

His fists clenched. If she had a boyfriend, he certainly wasn't taking very good care of this poor girl. This poor, stupid girl he wanted nothing but to help.

He should just have taken her to a goddamned hospital, he thought with irritation. Jesus, why did he always have to do things the hard way?

He hesitantly reached out and stroked her hair lovely, mahogany hair softly, now musing over her reaction to the spanking. She had thanked him and fallen asleep... He had expected yelling, kicking and screaming. Not a 'thank you'.

She was so bewitching, so unpredictably confusing. One minute she was numb and as malleable as clay in his hands, the next she's yelling at him to stop touching her. And then she thanks him for causing her pain. He shook his head; her actions made his thoughts curl around in messy twists. He had no idea what he was doing.

Resigned, he picked up his Blackberry from the pocket in his slacks and walked out of the room. He pushed a few buttons, and then waited impatiently for someone to pick up.

"_Edward?_"

"Hi, mom," he smiled in spite of himself. Esme did that to him.

"_Don't say that you won't make it. Your father and I haven't seen you for _e_ons_," she scolded.

He groaned inwardly. It was true.

"I'm sorry, there's a situation..." he trailed off guiltily.

"_At work? Because seriously, do you know how many times you've stood us up-_,"

"It's not work," he interrupted, sighing deeply.

"_Then pray tell me what it is!_" she answered, rather angrily, and he felt like eight years old again.

"It's just... it's personal, I'm sorry," he said, and before she could say anything back, he added, "why don't we meet up for brunch on Sunday? My treat, mom."

***

When Isabella Swan woke up, it felt like only minutes ago since she had practically passed out from exhaustion and emotional overload. There was no doubt in her mind where she was, or if today's actions had really occured. The dull pain of her behind served as the biggest reminder.

She was placed on a beautiful bed with golden covers in an equally beautiful, dimly lit room. All dark panel walls and champagne-colored carpet and a huge mahogany bedframe. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, yawned and stratched, and just then, she caught the movement of the doorknob turning in her sleepy haze.

"Bella," Edward greeted and stepped in, looking slightly more relaxed, though still a little disheveled, than before. And inevitably, she blushed, trying not to let her mind stray to what he'd done to her.

And of course, he had to ruin it. Like he did everything, she thought bitterly.

"How's your behind?"

"Fine," she mumbled embarrassed and sat up quickly, hiding her wince. Rather unsuccessfully, for Edward rolled his eyes at her and sunk down on the edge of the bed.

"You deserved it," he muttered, but was more concerned of reassuring himself of the fact. He wasn't quite sure any longer. He couldn't remember having taken such a rash decision... ever. He didn't know this girl, had no idea what she needed, who she was or what he was supposed to do now. The lack of control agitated him.

"Do you have someone to call?" he asked, but guilt was burning his conscience. He had been an irresposible fool. He noticed the girl's bottom lip trembling before she answered.

"No."

"No?"

"No one." She paused. "I thought we were supposed to go to dinner."

"Bella," he sighed. What was wrong with this girl? "I don't know you. I was upset and angry and wasn't as aware of my actions as I should have been," he tried to explain. She couldn't be serious. There must have been something seriously wrong with her. She was just _so_... unbelievably naïve it was ridiculous.

He pulled a frustrated hand through his hair before speaking again. She was passively watching him with glistening eyes.

"Do you go to school?"

She shook her head slightly.

"Work?"

"No. My parents..." she trailed off, blinking rapidly.

He frowned. What did she mean? Had he gotten a spoiled little rich girl on his hands? A suicidal one, as well. Why weren't they making sure she got the help she needed?

"They're gone. I mean... missing."

He raised his eyebrows. What the hell was going on?

Bella blanched at his cold expression. He seemed angry with her again, and more tears formed in her eyes: a salty, bitter liquid.

"Daddy is a diplomat... he disappeared in... in Yemen. Mommy too. Two years ago."

He clenched his jaw at the childish choice of words. Jesus Christ... she was just a damned child, her parents missing, and now he had... he swallowed hard and stood up abruptly, making Bella flinch.

"You must have a guardian?"

She shook her head, raising a trembling, pale hand to wipe her forehead. He was making her nervous, and his questions...

"I'm twenty. I told you that." She sat up straighter and hugged her knees to her chest, forgetting she was wearing a skirt for the moment. She didn't want to go home to that big, empty apartment... She hadn't talked to anyone for so long. _And he was nice, and he cared_, she thought.

"Can I please stay here? Only for tonight? Please?"

He merely shrugged, surprised though he probably shouldn't be; she seemed to be starved of human company.

"If you wish," he said, his thoughts running wild with pictures of her in different parts of his house. Asleep on the rug in front of the fireplace... on a chair at his kitchen island... resting on the couch in his office... in this bed, underneath him, warm and soft and compliant.

He internally shook his head. Too young, too broken, he tried to tell himself. Twenty_, twenty, a grown woman_, another part of his body screamed.

"Tell me your full name, address and social security number," he told her firmly and reached for one of the drawers in his nightstand. Ignoring the pack of condoms, he pulled out a small notepad and pen. He could have used his Blackberry, but this was personal. Too personal.

She obediently told him what he wanted to know.

"Isabella Swan," he mused quietly and took in her petite body and doe eyes. She looked beautiful in the soft, golden light. Her wide cheekbones were covered in a light blush, and her chin was just a bit too narrow to match them.

But she looked too sad to be a twenty-year-old diplomat's daughter in the heart of New York. He almost felt a kind of tenderness towards her.

His own life was simple, he didn't have what one could consider personal baggage, and he lived quietly and contentedly. Until this little girl showed up, at least.

"Come here," he told her and patted the space next to him.

Bella quickly scooted over to him, and rather eagerly pressed herself against his side. He chuckled and tucked her under his arm.

She was deeply inhaling his scent as he seemed to contemplate something. He smelled good. All soapy and... manly. She blushed but unashamedly rubbed her nose against his ribcage through the white shirt he wore. She hadn't been this close to someone for ages. Only slumdog Jacob's greasy hugs...

"I have rules in this house, Bella. You need to know them if you are going to stay here," he lied smoothly as he squeezed her shoulder.

"Okay," she answered, expecting nothing less. From the little she had learned about him, he seemed to do things his own way.

"You will eat healthy, sleep soundly, treat me with respect, and... if you as much as _think _of hurting yourself I will _not_ hesitate to use my belt on you."

Bella thought about it for a while, and concluded that this wouldn't be hard. The 'sleep soundly' part perhaps... She shuddered when she thought about the belt and became confused when she remembered how relieving the pain from his hand had been. Maybe... no, that was just wrong.

"Okay," she answered softly and Edward sighed.

"You need to get professional help, Bella. You can't repeat that roof performance again. It's not... God, I don't even want to know what would had happened if I hadn't been there." Edward said the first part reluctantly, out of responsibility. He wasn't sure if he wanted to leave her alone in some kind of mental institution, and he doubted that just a weekly meeting with a psychologist would help her.

Bella stiffened next to him and tried to get free from the arm draping her shoulders.

"No," she told him with as much bravery she could muster.

He held her tighter, crushed to his side, and an almost-growl escaped his lips.

"You need it, _Isa_bella."

She shook her head stubbornly.

"If you think I'm just going to sit back and watch you kill yourself, you're damn wrong, you stupid girl," he told her angrily and shook her a little.

She huffed, an angry little kitten with her claws drawn, Edward thought, but was abruptly interrupted by a strange sound coming from Isabella's stomach. He smiled involuntarily when she blushed.

"I usually have dinner out, with business associates, but we'll order take-out tonight," he told her, his anger gone as fast as it had surfaced. She was difficult to stay mad at.

***

There was an awkward silence as Bella was pushing her risotto around on her plate, fidgeting, and considering if this was really such a good idea. What had she been thinking when she asked if she could stay?

Edward did nothing to make her more comfortable across the long, formal dining table in the ridiculous dining room he hardly ever used.. He simply observed her, her movements; and the soft light reflected in her shiny hair. He ignored their bizarre situation for just a minute.

She dropped her fork with a tinkling sound, smiled apologetically and picked it up again.

Edward wasn't a cold person, but he was pleased with his life as it had been before she had entered it a few hours earlier. Peace came with age, he thought. He was torn between wanting to kick her out to take care of her own problems and helping her heal her sad soul.

And also, she fascinated him. She had taken her punishment well, thanked him even. She had accepted his fake rules with no hesitation... he shifted on his chair.

The thoughts from earlier resurfaced. He wasn't interested in having a labelled relationship with the titles, with the defined limits and other things that were included in a BDSM lifestyle. He wanted a girl who respected him, who understood his need for control and wouldn't mind some... sexual activities which strayed a bit off the usual path.

And therein lay his problem. Ordinary women _would_like the kinky things, to an extent, but when he acted authoritative in other, everyday things, they would put down their foot. And women who lived the real, hardcore lifestyle would want an agreement, contract and all.

There was no middle ground.

He was getting older, and the need to... kind of settle down was getting stronger every day. He wanted to come home to his wife after work, and maybe a cute kid.

The few people that knew him well always said that he should have lived in the fifties.

Control was a strange measurement of the love or attraction he felt; the more he loved someone, the bigger the need to control was.

He smiled softly at the suicidal girl across from him, who was chewing slowly, keeping her eyes glued to the plate.

He could take care of her for a while. She was beautiful and broken and needed his help. He wouldn't take advantage of her, and he would ease up on the threats of spankings.

She could be his new project.

_"How to heal a beautiful, young woman's soul in 14 days."_

And this was probably where his reason stopped and something else took over.

_***_

_And... cut._

_He _is_ kind of... taking advantage of her... I think. Pervert._

_Did I tell you that English isn't my first language?_

_Do forgive any mistakes._


	2. Where Reason Stops for Scared Men

_I've been sick, so this is just a little something I wrote on a whim, while listening to Doc ranting about how not eating affects the immune defence and shit._

_Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns the names, I don't know anyone at Goldman Sachs _and_ I have absolutely no idea how the US government handles cases of missing persons abroad._

_Enjoy._

***

Edward was sitting at his beloved kitchen island the next morning, sipping his coffee and reading his paper. But his mind was far off. Up the stairs, and to the left. Where poor little Bella was still asleep.

He impatiently checked his watch. It was 7.45, a.m. She would have to get up soon if she wanted to see him before he went to work. Though he supposed it wasn't about her _wanting_. He had instructed her to do so.

Yesterday, they had finished their dinner in silence, Edward had showed her the guestroom and then given her one of his t-shirts to sleep in. She was probably small enough to drown in it.

He had left her to change and then tucked her in like a child (a very gentlemanly way to sneak a kiss to her forehead). After that, he'd gone into his office to do the work he had skipped earlier when he took her home.

He was worried today, about leaving her alone for too long. God knows what she could come up with. His musings were interrupted by soft padding across the floor.

He couldn't help but smile when her head peaked around the door-frame with a curious look.

He beckoned her towards him with a curl of his fingers.

"Come here," he ordered softly, but blanched a little when he saw that she was only wearing his t-shirt... the blood moved to a completely different place. Slender, milky white thighs were visible beneath the hem, moving tantalizingly as she timidly walked forward.

Bella nervously fidgeted in front of him. She had slept well, for once, with the knowledge that he had been in the room next to hers. She hadn't been alone.

"I don't cook," Edward told her, almost a little ruefully, "I buy breakfast on my way to work."

She nodded and half-smiled at his Starbucks-thermos. He reminded her of her father in that moment and caused her to avert her eyes, now filled with tears.

He touched her shoulder gently, quietly wondering what was wrong. She was so unstable, he thought.

"There are some eggs in the refrigerator, though. Some ham as well, I think. You should make an omelet."

She just nodded, still thinking of how much he reminded her of her dad. _Daddy issues_, a little mean voice whispered in her head.

She was such a sad little girl, those doe-eyes either void of any feeling at all, or so pained it took the breath out of Edward. Had she been all alone in the world for two whole years? She needed help. And he wanted to know more about her story.

_Alice could help with that_, he concluded.

Bella was shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, yet again wondering what she was doing in his home, and how she ended up here. She wished she wasn't. She didn't want to _be_. At all. There was no will to live left in her. She had nothing to live for. And he forced her to keep on living. It wasn't fair.

And what about his life? If he had a girlfriend she most definitely wouldn't like if Bella stayed here. She tried to discreetly glance at his ring finger, and it was naked. At least he wasn't married.

She breathed deeply, trying to calm herself down. She searched somewhere deep down for bravery, to tell him she was going home today.

She was being a burden, as usual.

"I'm going home after breakfast," she said so quietly it was only a whisper.

Edward's soft expression turned into a frightening scowl, and she fought the urge to cover her behind with her hands.

"Don't be ridiculous, you'll stay right where you are." The stupid girl still didn't understand that she was his responsibility now.

"I'm imposing," she whispered and looked down at her hands, wringing them together. She was scared of the consequences of upsetting him (and a very small part of her was excited at the prospect, not that she would ever admit it).

"Your girlfriend," she said as a way of explaining, daring to meet his eyes for once, and immediately got caught in the green infernos. He was beautiful, she thought. She hadn't really looked at him since those seconds on the roof. He was... she tried to find the right words. _The epitome of masculinity_. She giggled internally.

Edward snorted. His last girlfriend had left him after a bitch slap and a few words of choice. 'Assholey, chauvinistic, caveman', it he remembered correctly.

"I've left you money for lunch, and the menu from the restaurant we ordered from yesterday," he informed her and motioned to a folded bill and a cell phone laying on top of a piece of paper.

He could see how the silly, awkward girl in front of him was about to protest, and held up a hand to stop her.

"Do you remember the rules from yesterday? Specifically the one about respecting me?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Good. Do as you're told. I don't want you going out on your own, do you hear that, little girl?" He was worried about her. Worried sick, actually.

He held out his arms for her, and she swiftly stepped in between his knees as he hugged her tightly. He lightly kissed her soft, warm cheeks and then released her, before he did anything he would regret. She was close to irresistible.

Reluctantly, Edward left for work.

***

Alone and sad with just the memory of his arms around her (and with a black t-shirt that smelled just like him), Bella hesitantly explored his house.

It was typical American, in that I-pretend-to-live-in-an-European-castle-way. All dark wood panel like the bedroom, with cream coloured walls and art pieces that she didn't know were originals or not. It almost felt like walking around in a museum. _Mr Darcy_, a giddy version of herself giggled.

On the first floor, there was a kitchen and a living room and a dining room, at which she wrinkled her nose. The dinner yesterday hadn't been comfortable.

On the second floor, up a polished staircase, were the bedrooms. Though when she opened the last door in the sinister corridor, she found his library. Complete with a fireplace and soft, dark green armchairs and brass lamps.

She loved the smell of old books. It reminded her of her father. And she couldn't stand it. At all. She pulled the door closed with force and fought back tears once again. It was all Edward's fault, she thought. If he hadn't been there, she would have been gone now. What had he been doing on a roof anyway?

She glared at nothing in particular and stomped up another staircase. She grimaced when she opened the first door she saw. A gym. And then a picture of a sweaty, heavy-breathing Edward entered her mind and she blushed. That was just wrong.

She didn't really care what was in the other rooms, so she walked down to the first floor again and gingerly touched the cell phone he had left for her.

A forbidden image of a tall, muscular, Chilean boy with a goofy smile flickered past her eyes. She could call Jacob. She missed him. She hadn't seen him for... almost two years.

She caressed the sleek piece of plastic with her fingertips and repeated a telephone-number she would never forget. He parents would have had a heart attack if they had known she hung out with Jacob and his friends. Which was kind of the whole idea.

She choked back a sob and picked up the cellphone. She deftly dialed the number and bit her bottom lip as she waited for someone to answer.

_"Jacob."_

She was quiet, breathing softly. She loved his voice. It was... homey.

_"Hello?"_

She sniffled and took a deep breath.

_"Jesúses... is that you, chiquitita? Bella?"_

"Hi..." she said meekly.

_"Come over, cariña. You sound like you need to talk."_

"Yeah..."

She closed the phone, ran up the stairs, got dressed, ran down again, grabbed the money and the cell and quickly made her way out, feeling bad about not being able to lock the door.

She was finally going to see Jacob.

***

In the meanwhile, Edward was blissfully oblivious as to what Bella was doing while he instructed Alice to find out as much as she could about a certain Isabella Swan.

"Is that the pretty girl from yesterday?" she asked and eyed him mischievously. She was a force to be reckoned with.

He stretched in his chair behind his desk and nodded, not happy about the look on her face. But she was right: Bella was indeed a very pretty girl. Especially when she wore only his t-shirt and stood in front of him, meek as ever.

"Is it really a smart thing to do? I mean, you two should play twenty questions or something..."

He glared at her. He would have fired her if she wasn't such a damn good PA.

"Just do what I tell you, Alice."

"Well, of course, Mr Cullen, sir," she said sweetly and rolled her eyes heavenward, sashaying out of his office.

He stuck his tongue out behind her.

The remainder of Edward's day was slow and uneventful, filled to the brim with boring papers and even more boring conversations with lawyers and clients half the world away.

His thoughts strayed to Bella more often than he would've liked to admit. He remembered how she had stood in his kitchen this morning, nervous and submissive and just goddamned stunning. For a second he thought that maybe it was faith; faith had thrown this little girl in his way for him to take care of.

He would've liked to believe that.

His more practical and effective side planned what to do next about the whole situation. He would have to find her a doctor. He should convince her to stay in his house permanently... 'permanently' as in until she was feeling better. And that would mean getting her clothes, no matter how badly he wanted her to walk around in his garments all day, every day.

Several times he thought about calling her to see if she was okay, and wasn't coming up with any more sick ideas about killing herself, but he was always interrupted. It was beginning to irritate him. That was never good.

And it was little Alice who became the victim of his poor temper.

"Jesusfuck, Alice. Leave me alone for two minutes, will you?!" he shouted and smacked down a folder on his desk when she walked into his office for the third time in as many minutes.

The pixie girl snorted and wondered what had her boss' panties in a twist. Probably the girl from yesterday. She had never seen Edward with a _girl_ in his office. And she certainly had never seen him look that... tender.

It was highly uncharacteristic.

She pursed her lips at him. You had to be strong when you worked with this man, she thought.

"Well... then I'm sure you're no longer interested in hearing the story of a certain diplomat's daughter, then, are you?" she asked in a sing-song voice and waved around the papers in her hand.

His head which was resting in his hands immediately perked up.

"What would I do without you, Alice? You're an angel," he smiled crookedly at her and she rolled her eyes. He could be charming when he wanted to.

She gave him the papers with a small, genuine, smile. If he had met someone, that was good.

"Be nice to her, Edward. Seems like she's been through a shitload of... shit."

"Of course, Alice. Thank you."

He was deeply engrossed in the papers when she closed the door.

It would appear like Isabella Marie Swan was born and raised in New York and had lived there for most of her life. She was the daughter of Charles and Renee Swan, the former an American diplomat, a specialist on Arabic relations.

He noted her birth date with a gulp. Thirteenth of September, 1989. 1989. '89. Eight. Nine. Bloody hell, she was just a kid. Just a little girl. A little orphaned baby.

His own birthdate went somewhere along the lines of 1970-something. He felt sick. This was the young girl he had spanked and imagined tied up at his mercy, while she in reality had lain sobbing her heart out on his lap. Devastated because she was all alone in the darkness.

He guiltily turned a page.

There were only a few articles on her missing parents. They hadn't even been there for work. Kidnapped was the official theory, though there were no demands for ransom. They had simply disappeared from the earth's surface.

And the US government had been hesitant about starting an investigation, worried about hurting more of their Arabic relations. After all, Mr and Mrs Swan hadn't been there for work. And there was no proof that a crime had even happened.

They had been declared dead not four weeks ago.

He crumpled the papers into a little ball and threw it in his trash can.

Poor Bella. His little girl was all alone.

***

But maybe not as alone as one could think. As Edward was contemplating what he had found out about little Bella (it wasn't much), she herself was situated in an old couch in a worn but cozy living room.

Next to her curled-up form was her beloved Jacob, a boy who at first glance could pass for a gang member, with his white wife-beater, jeans, tattoos and tan muscles.

Though she supposed one tattoo wasn't as scary as it could have been. It was a picture of a sad, cartoon puppy.

El Perrito. Jacob. The puppy.

She smiled as she traced the lines of it on his bicep.

"Do you still have yours, chiquitita?" he grinned and hid his sadness behind a pearly white smile.

"You know I don't... Daddy freaked out when he found out. I told you that", she whispered back and her fingers automatically found a spot on her ribcage which had been covered in ink a few years back.

She teared up again, and Jacob swiftly hugged her closer. Words didn't work with this girl, he knew that. Actions were what made her react, and in this case, tears rolled down her cheeks in a steady pace.

"Hush, honey. What's happened? You've been fine for years, right?" he asked, bewildered by her behavior. He hadn't spoken to Bella since a few weeks after her parents' death. Which was a long, long time.

"I'm fine. I just... wanted to see you," she managed to choke out. Her empty life was falling apart. There was nothing that could fall apart, and still it did. It was all Edward's fault. She hated that man.

She hugged Jacob back and tried to calm down. She would have to try again. She didn't want this life. She hadn't asked to be born.

Her parents had been taken away from her as a punishment for her rebellion. The friendship with Jacob, the tattoo, the screaming fits with her dad. It was all her fault, and she didn't deserve, nor _wanted_ to live. Not without them.

Something vibrated next to her on the couch and she stared at the phone in horror. That could only be one person. And now she was in trouble. Sharp, painful trouble.

"Yes?" she answered in a trembling voice, shaking her head at Jacob who looked at her strangely.

_"Are you okay, Bella?" _he asked her softly, with concern, and she almost felt guilty.

"Yes."

_"I'll be home in half an hour. Do you prefer Thai or Indian?"_

"I'm..." she swallowed, "I'm not at your place." She closed her eyes and waited for his anger.

It never came. Instead, his voice was low and sounded almost scared when he answered.

_"Where are you, Bella? If you do something stupid..." _he trailed off.

"I'm with a friend."

_"Tell me where you are and I'll pick you up," _and she could now hear his irritation.

She reluctantly did, but when Edward heard it, he exploded.

_"What the hell are you doing in a neighborhood like that? Are you out of your mind?! You stupid girl! You're in trouble when we get home... Goddamnit-."_

She closed the phone, effectively ending his rant and felt all the blood drain from her face.

Jacob held her quaking body as they waited for Edward to arrive. He didn't know what to make of this. Had she been a mess like this since they died? What had happened to that snarky, rebellious attitude? Why the hell hadn't she come to him? And who was this man who yelled the typical father-phrases to her over the phone?

It was best not to ask. He was afraid she would completely break down or something if he did. She was upset as it was.

After what felt like hours for Jacob and seconds for a terrified Bella, someone knocked loudly three times and then barged into the tiny apartment.

Edward was furious and scared and slightly disgusted, when he saw little Bella clinging to some kind of ghetto-kid, complete with tribal tattoos and the whole fuck-you stance. The door was located so that he spotted them just as he opened it.

Jacob shot up in alarm when he read the man's expression. He looked murderous, his eyes darting quickly between the two of them. Jacob couldn't understand _who_ this was, and worriedly turned his gaze to Bella, who to his surprise looked a little _embarrassed_.

What. The. Fuck?

"Bella. Come here, now," Edward told her firmly, relieved that she wasn't hurt or seemed too scared of him. He knew he had to calm down; he had seen a brief glint of fear in the kid's eyes, and if he could scare _him_, then he didn't want to know how he affected the fragile little girl.

Bella hadn't seen the anger, in her eyes, it had been overpowered by the worry and concern. She felt sick. She hated him for making her feel like this. She despised him for his care. It was none of his business.

She reluctantly stood up, walking around a suspicious Jacob and up to Edward. She was disgusted with herself, but she couldn't help but doing what he told her. She was just. So. Weak.

He glared softly (if there was such thing as 'glaring softly') at her and bent down to kiss her forehead before turning his gaze back to Jacob, who stood frozen and bewildered in his own living room.

With last one icy look at him, Edward gently pushed Bella out of the apartment, put his arm around her waist, walked down the staircase and helped her into his precious car.

Adrenaline was still rushing through his veins as he got in and leaned his head on the headrest, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Sorry," Bella said quietly after a few minutes in heavy silence.

An almost-growl was Edward's only response.

"Who was that boy?" he asked with barely-contained anger. He felt feral. She had run from the safety of his house, into the arms of some kind of gang-member. Overprotective and possessive, Edward didn't like it one bit.

"Uhm... Jacob. We're friends." Bella wasn't as scared as she ought to have been, she thought. But Edward hadn't been violent, and handled her gently.

"Of course you are," he sighed, "you're still in trouble though, little girl."

She shuddered.

***

"I told you to not leave the house," Edward said as they were sitting on the cream-coloured sofa in his living room. He was disappointed with her, though still quite relieved. She could had done something much worse.

"You've been breaking rules all over the place. You didn't even have breakfast."

She stubbornly stared at her hands, not daring to look at him. Would he... _spank_ (even her thoughts whispered that word) her? She closed her eyes. She didn't want to be. She shouldn't be here, with him. She should be gone.

"Bella?" Edward saw her retreating, into that numb state; shrinking in front of his eyes in that particular Bella-way. He hated it.

"Don't you think you deserve a punishment?"

No answer. He sighed and stroked her hair, swiping it away from her face. A light blush covered her cheeks.

"Bella... don't do this," he whispered and leaned closer for solely selfish purposes. He pressed a light kiss to her temple. "I'm not angry with you, okay? I won't spank you."

Bella could feel the anger brewing inside and stiffened. He had absolutely no right to do that against her will. And... he made her care about what happened to her and she _loathed_ it. She clenched her hands into tiny little fists.

"I hate you," she whispered through clenched teeth. And at the moment, she really did. He had ruined _everything._

Edward was taken aback by her statement and gaped in shock. Sweet little girls didn't tell him they hated him everyday. He moved closer to the upset young woman and put an arm around her, which she immediately shook off.

"Don't you see that you are ruining my life? It's_ my _choice. No one else's. If I don't want to live, I don't have to!" she growled in a kittenish way, but Edward found no amusement in the situation.

He could feel his own anger rising, threatening to break through his calm facade. He tightened an arm around her unconsciously.

"I'm going home," she stated and began to rise.

He held her down with steely determination.

"You stupid girl. It's not _your_ life any longer. It became mine the moment I_ saw _you at that roof. You're my responsibility, and you'll do as I say. Your life is mine to do with _as. I. Wish_."

A tear slipped down her cheek.

***

_... Cut._

_I know, a bit shorter than the first one._


	3. Where Reason Stops for Curious Men

_Armani Diamonds is a must for any man. Mouthwatering and a complete turn-on. Trust me._

_Disclaimer: I don't own the names, S. Meyer does. And James Joyce owns "Ulysses", and Sylvia Plath owns "The Bell Jar". Great books (my taste appears to be rather eclectic), read them._

_Do enjoy._

_***_

"Please let me go home," she begged him, with watery eyes and cracked voice.

He shook his head, consumed by guilt. He just _knew_ that she would try to... _off _herself again.

"This is..." she searched for words, "this is _kidnapping_." She couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. He wouldn't let her go home? This wasn't normal. It was utterly insane. _Just like you_, that mean little voice whispered again.

He snorted disbelievingly. It wasn't kidnapping; it was saving a life. He loosened his grip on her a little and gently pulled his fingers through her hair. She swatted his hand away and scooted off towards the other end of the sofa.

"Don't touch me," she snapped and he raised his eyebrows in surprise of the glint of sassiness he'd been rewarded with. Or maybe it was just panic. He frowned when she curled into a ball and hid her face behind he knees.

"Bella..."

"Take me home."

"No."

"I hate you. I hate you. I hate you!"

He sighed. This started to look like more of a childish tantrum than anything else. And Edward hated those. But he had promised he wouldn't spank her._ This time_, he added in his mind.

"What are you going to do if I take you home?" he asked with a ting of hurt in his voice. Even someone as Edward couldn't keep the words from slicing deep in his heart.

"Disappear," she muttered, and he winced when she started pulling her lovely hair violently. He quickly reached over and grabbed her wrists, holding them tightly.

"Don't touch me!" she cried and trashed, trying to get out of his grip.

He was shocked, and as always, his shock turned into calm control.

"Calm down right now, Isabella. Right now," he commanded and shook her slightly. He closed his eyes when she looked up at him, pale and panicked and teary-eyed, the expression reminding him of a helpless deer.

"Please, Bella. Stop this," he breathed, feeling as helpless as she looked. "I'm just trying to help you. You're hurting yourself."

"I don't want help," she muttered, and he could feel her leaning forward a little, her head touching his shoulder. He relaxed.

She rubbed her face against him, once again reminding him of a kitten, and he released her hands to gently cup the back of her head. She was sobbing softly, breaking his heart a little.

"Why are you doing this, Bella? How could you _possibly_ not want to live?"

When she didn't answer, Edward decided that he wanted an answer to something he'd thought about a lot.

"Have you tried to _kill yourself _before?" he said, disgust clear in his voice when he said the words 'kill yourself'.

No answer. Bloody hell. Why wouldn't she let him help her? And what about that Jacob-boy? They seemed to be close, why weren't he helping her? Though Edward was ashamed to admit it, he rather selfishly wanted to be the only one to save her. And that was the only reason he still hadn't found her a doctor.

"Have you hurt yourself before?" he continued, glancing at her wrists, relieved when he saw nothing more than smooth, white, young skin.

"I don't do blood," she muttered petulantly.

She was saved by a vibration against her skin, and Edward stared incredulously when she with shaking fingers reached down the front of her blouse, into her bra, and picked out the cell phone.

She completely ignored him and answered it, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

_"Bella?" _Jacob asked worriedly at the other end. He felt stupid for just having stood there earlier, doing nothing. But Bella could defend herself, so he wasn't _overly_ worried about her. Hell, even his friends had been scared of her temper... and her very nice aim when it came to kneeing.

"Yeah... I'm fine," she said, her voice cracking traitorously, and Edward stroked her hair carefully, guessing who was calling (and smiling slightly at the hiding place for the phone).

_"Are you sure? Who was that?"_

"Uhm, no one, really. It's okay."

_"He seemed angry..."_ Jacob trailed off.

"It's okay, I said," Bella snapped, feeling a little irritated. It didn't matter if she was hurt or not. It wouldn't have mattered if she had been beaten to a bloody pulp, she tried to tell herself. Nothing mattered.

_"Okay, okay," _Jacob rolled his eyes, liking the sudden change of attitude. This was the Bella he knew, and he knew very well that she would never let herself be pushed around by some guy._"Don't be a stranger, chiquitita..."_

"I won't," she lied and hung up, but still thankful for the interruption of Edward's inquisition. She put the phone down next to her on the couch.

Reluctantly, she looked up in his eyes, and blinked away tears.

"I'm not your problem," she whispered hesitantly, trying in vain to convince him to let her go. He was close again, putting his arms around her, gently but firmly at the same time.

He decided to postpone the interrogation for a while. She needed to calm down.

"I bought you some clothes."

"Okay."

He huffed impatiently, and lifted her into a more comfortable position, holding her tighter. She was half-way sitting on his lap, stiff and unresponding, but with her head against his chest, breathing deeply. He guessed that was because of the Armani Diamonds.

He rolled his eyes, not believing what he was about to do. He felt like a high-school kid again.

"What's your favourite color?"

She snorted. _What was he doing?_

"I don't know. Do you want me to answer you _correctly_?" she mocked, and Edward laughed in surprise. Bella was just relieved that he had let go of the whole why-would-you-do-such-thing-crap, and let herself relax for a moment.

He kissed her hair, not being able to say if he liked the sudden show of confidence and sass or not.

"Favourite book?"

_"Ulysses."_

"Wow."

"I know," she answered smugly, but muffled against his shirt. Her tears were almost forgotten. "It's a masterpiece."

He chuckled and kissed her hair, his body responding now that she didn't sound sad. He shifted uncomfortably under her slight weight and held back a quiet groan. She was a smart girl, he thought. He hadn't met one single woman who would say that _Ulysses_ was their favourite book.

Bella moved a bit to be comfortable again and froze. And then she knew exactly what was going on with his body. She wasn't a virgin, far from it, actually.

It had all been part of her rebellion: the sweaty, warm, moving bodies and then the tightening and uncoiling, the bruises and the smudged make-up the morning after.

But now she blushed at the memories, ashamed of her behavior. She managed to get off of his lap and stand up, nervous and edgy, scared of his reaction to having her close.

He guiltily looked away, and then cleared his throat.

"I won't do anything to you, Bella," he told her quietly, ignoring other protesting parts of his body. He wanted to. "I'm a man," he said, as if it would excuse it. She was just so damned innocent. He doubted she'd even been kissed.

The things he wanted to do to her...

"Can I go home?" came out of nowhere, meekly.

He stood up, and swiftly brushed past her, irritated and agitated and just plain angry... not to mention frustrated.

"I'm not having that discussion with you, Bella.," he called over his shoulder as he headed towards the kitchen.

"I lied," she said and trailed after him. "It's _The Bell Jar_."

"Of course it is." What was he supposed to say to that? A novel about a young woman who half-heartedly tries to kill herself over and over again. He wasn't surprised.

He leaned against a counter, sighing deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He watched her disapprovingly, the little girl who was sassy one second and all meek and shy the next. She was lovely and _completely broken._

She had practically begged him to let her... to let her take her own life. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. It wasn't comprehensible.

She stood a few feet away, pouting and beautiful. She affected him so. She made his actions and choices seem utterly insane. He was nothing short of confused.

Bella bit her lip and looked Edward square in the eye. No matter how attractive or caring or _nice_ he was, she wasn't about to let him ruin any more of her plans.

"If you don't let me go, I'll just sneak away tonight when you're asleep... or when you're at work tomorrow..." she threatened.

He actually snorted.

"You think I'd let you do that, little girl?" he asked, rhetorically. Now she was just being silly. And a bit trying. His patience was wearing thin.

She pursed her lips. He was scary when he called her 'little girl' in that tone. But he didn't know that her patience was also running out. The fight-instinct was on the rise, if only to distract him from the flight.

"I can be sneaky."

He hummed and smirked. This sweet little girl being sneaky? No. Way.

"I'm not a stranger to having beautiful women cuffed to my bed, darling," he smiled, his brain/mouth filter not really working.

She blanched for a few seconds and then her little face exploded in a fiery red.

He almost regretted his words. _Almost_ being the keyword.

"You wouldn't," she stammered, as forbidden images rapidly flickered through her mind.

He just smirked, liking this game (and suppressing the growing sense of guilt).

"I'm a man of my word, _Isa_bella... I thought your behind was a first-hand witness to that. I don't tolerate disobedience," he announced, and his voice grew steely in the end.

She swallowed soundly and shivered. She knew he didn't. But there was something mesmerizing about him when he was using that tone. Compelling, in a way.

It was the same voice her tyrant for a father had used with her, and at the same time not. This was... sensual. She stared at her feet, feeling completely ridiculous for thinking that word.

He was distracting her again, like he always seemed to do. Confusing her, messing up her head and her plans.

"Now be a good girl and tell me what you prefer. Thai or Indian?" he asked, smiling easily at little Bella. It felt good to know that she wasn't completely repulsed by him now.

"Indian," she mumbled, "Tandoori, please."

***

All throughout dinner, Bella could feel Edward throwing glances at her. They ate at his precious kitchen island today. She was marginally more comfortable today than yesterday.

Comfortable enough that she dared to do something only the old Bella would have done.

"Were you serious?" she asked and put some chicken in her mouth. She was hungry and it was delicious.

Edward knew exactly what she was asking by the bright red blush on her cheeks, and contemplated how much he would dare to tell the sweet girl.

If he hadn't scared her away (even if he wouldn't let her get that far) with the spanking he'd given her the day before, he doubted that there was much he could say that would.

"Yes."

"Oh." She couldn't say that she was surprised, and awkwardly drank some water. "But why?" she asked, unwillingly curious.

"It turns me on," he answered matter-of-factly and gulped down some wine, deciding it was her turn to answer questions now.

"You could have ran away and jumped from another skyscraper today, Bella. It was an idiotic thing to leave you alone. Why didn't you?"

She frowned at his change of topic and continued to eat, having no intentions of answering him. She had wanted to see Jacob, and he had made her forget about her plans for the moment.

"Answer me."

"I wanted to see Jacob."

"And?"

"And then you came barging in, which was _te_rribly rude, before I had the chance to get away and find a suiting building," she explained with heavy sarcasm, tired of his never-ending questions.

She jumped when he slammed down a fist on the marble next to his plate; she was in dangerous territory.

"Do not use that tone with me," he almost-growled so that she shuddered.

This time, Isabella Swan snapped.

She stood up.

"Why wouldn't I?! You are nothing but a horrible, tyrannic, despotic, old man who is keeping me in this house against. My. Will!"

She breathed heavily and and stomped out of the kitchen, hearing Edward's bar stool crash against the floor. Luckily, it was the right way to the lobby. But before she could even open one of the closets to find her coat, two big hands clamped down roughly on her shoulders.

She squeaked pathetically. She was in _so_ much trouble.

"You are in _so_ much trouble, Isabella," he whispered in her ear.

"You said you wouldn't..." she whispered in a trembling voice.

"I know I did," he stated impatiently, "go up to your room. There are pyjamas in one of the bags. Brush your teeth and go to bed."

She spluttered at him despite her fear. Was he sending her off to bed like an errant child? She really wouldn't put it past him to do so... but still.

Edward watched her stomp up the stairs without another word and then started to pull his hair. What was wrong with the girl? He told her to respect him, and then she starts yelling at him about tyranny and shit.

He grumbled under his breath and tried to calm down. She was getting feisty, and while it could be wonderfully cute in small doses, this was getting too much for his personality to take.

Fucking hell.

He had no doubts that she would try to run away as soon as he let her out of his sight. What the hell had happened to the sweet, submissive girl in his kitchen from this morning?

_Jacob_ was clearly quite the bad influence, he concluded, pleased to have found the reason. There would be no more seeing Jacob.

And then there was the matter of punishment. No girl ever yelled at him. Ever. Feeling rather vengeful, he stalked up the stairs, past Bella's room and into his own.

Swiftly, he pulled out a drawer and felt quite juvenile for hiding these things in the bottom of a drawer. Determinedly (and do not forget vengeful), he picked out a pair of cuffs made of steel, without any ridiculous fluff, and put them in a pocket of his slacks.

He lay down on his bed, reaching for a book on his nightstand.

And then he waited...

After about an hour, (half an hour after he'd heard the shower turn off), he made his way into the guestroom. Bella was lying on her back under the covers, her eyes wide and scared. He could see the baby-pink straps of the rather modest camisole he'd bought for her to match a pair of silky pyjama pants

He felt guilty at once, now that he'd calmed down.

"It's okay, Bella," he told her soothingly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She was lying stiff and unmoving. "I won't hurt you. I won't touch you, okay?" he assured her gently.

She nodded and sniffled.

"Give me your hands, sweet girl," he asked and tenderly pushed a little hair off her face.

She slowly raised them towards him and he pulled out the cuffs, smiling slightly at her panicked expression. She was adorable. Stunning.

"I won't hurt you and I won't touch you. I'm a man of my word, remember that, Bella?" he whispered as he grabbed her wrist gently, raising them above her head, towards the headboard.

Very carefully he locked the cuffs around her dainty wrists and around the headboard, not even close to cutting off any circulation. He would never do that to her.

Tears sprung to her eyes.

"I'm really sorry, Edward," she whispered.

"It's okay. I don't want you hurting yourself anymore, alright? And I don't want you running away."

She nodded, relaxing into the pillows.

"Good girl. Don't move too much, these things are pretty... merciless. You don't want any bruises, you sweet girl."

She nodded again, closing her eyes and yawning. It couldn't be more than eight o'clock, but the fighting had drained her.

"You just have to call for me if you need me. I'm a light sleeper," he said and kissed her forehead and temple.

"Edward?" she called after him quietly as he rose from the bed.

"Yeah?" he asked and turned around to look down into beautifully sleepy chocolate-eyes.

"Will you please stay until I fall asleep? Please?"

She sounded as she had yesterday, Edward thought. When she had asked to stay the night. _As if he could tell her no. _He sat down again, bewitched by her when she was this quiet and calm and serene.

He stroked her cheek lightly, noticing how soft her skin was, glowing in the soft light of the bedside lamp.

"You remind me of daddy," she whispered, and Edward pulled away as if he'd been burnt. No man wanted to hear that from a girl he wanted naked in his bed. And he was worried... had her _father_ treated her like this? That would be sick.

"I certainly hope that he never cuffed you to your bed," he said, trying to joke, but failed as the question sounded brutally serious. If he'd done something to his own daughter...

"No, of course not," she mumbled drowsily, "but he was very strict as well. I didn't mean to call you a despotic tyrant, by the way. I'm really sorry."

He chuckled, relieved, and his hand found its way into her still damp hair, caressing it softly. He could be gentle.

"Apology accepted, Bella. I _am_ a despotic tyrant," he smiled, only half-joking.

She giggled and fell asleep as Edward continued to touch her carefully and chastely.

***

Alone in his room later that night, Edward desperately tried to rid himself of the image of a cuffed Isabella. It was impossible.

She had looked lovely, and had been so compliant... He groaned and put his book away for the night, twisting his finger into his hair and pulling it harshly.

She was just a baby. He remembered those frightening numbers. Eighty-nine. And she was broken. _And_ she definitely didn't need someone whose temper was worse than an unreliable volcano.

He knew he was a little moody, and that he was easily angered, but it was unacceptable that she would be afraid of him. He wanted respect, not fear. And he wanted_ her_.

He was happy (and a bit taken aback) that she had trusted him enough to put herself in a completely helpless state in his presence. Though he doubted it was trust; it was probably just a stupid lack of self-preservation that made her do it.

He had known her for a little more than twenty-four hours, and he already wanted her in his life. He had been hesitant before, but now that he knew how lovely she really was with that fiesty temper that could be tamed... she would be impossible to let go.

He was scared that she would slip through his fingers; that she would hurt herself. It was something he would never allow.

And then he thought about her curiousness about his sexual preferences; the sweet, virginal Bella, who blushed even when just thinking the word 'spanking'.

He grabbed the sheets and clenched his fists around them, trying to refrain from letting his hands slid under the covers and into his boxers and in that way save himself a whole lot of guilt.

It was going to be a long night.

In the other room, Bella was deep asleep, already having passed a first stage of REM, in which the pictures of her mother and her father, Jacob and herself, had floated together into one single picture of a man.

Her father's dominant attitude, her mother's soft touches, Jacob's sense of humour, and her own loneliness, all mixed up in this man.

A man with dark green eyes and bronze-colored hair, who had been smiling crookedly and mischievously, dangling her over the edge of a cliff, towards a perpetual fall.

She had felt safe; he wouldn't let go of her.

***

_These chapters are just getting shorter and shorter... I'm sorry about that. Just needed to cut it off there._

_Thank you for your reviews, by the way. You're all so very kind. I think I love you._

_And now I'm scared to death of disappointing you._


	4. Where Cold Showers Start

_Thank you for your lovely reviews on the last chapter._

_Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns the names and I still don't know anyone at Goldman Sachs._

_Here you go._

_Do enjoy._

***

"She's young, Edward. Really young," Alice said to him between two puffs of her cigarette. There really wasn't any accusation in her tone, but the words still pierced Edward's conscience a little deeper than comfortable.

It was Friday today. They were standing by one of the pillars outside the main entrance to the Goldman Sachs building on Broad Street, having just returned from the deli where they had picked up lunch.

The weather was nice, and Edward was happy that he wore his sunglasses for two reasons. The first being the sun, the second was that Alice and her feminine intuition (hopefully) wouldn't be able to find out his attraction to the girl.

He hadn't felt like such an old, perverted man in his whole life.

He glared at her through the tinted glass.

"I know."

"How did you meet?" asked Alice, always the curious one. She usually didn't pry too much into her uptight boss' personal life, but when he brought a girl to the office for a whole day like some kind of babysitter, she was intrigued.

"We're not dating, Alice."

She choked on some smoke and put out her cigarette.

"Hah."

"I'm serious! I'm just helping her out," Edward exclaimed and pulled his hair. He didn't like being interrogated (and he was slightly anxious to get back up to little Bella). "Mind your own business," he snapped and walked in, leaving a not-so-surprised Alice behind.

She stuck her tongue out after him. _What was he wearing anyway? Armani... 2008? _

Once Edward arrived back to his office, he sighed in relief to see Bella perched primly on the edge of his couch, looking sullen. Not to mention beautiful, in the creme-colored dress he'd bought for her, and her hair in a ponytail.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked and handed her a bag containing her salad and a bottle of water.

"No," she mumbled and rubbed her wrists. She had twisted a bit in her sleep, and they were red and a little sore. And she had had to come with him to his office, earning all those strange looks from the people they passed. She hated attention.

This wasn't turning out to be a good day.

She almost felt something brewing inside of her, desperately wanting to escape. It had been like that since she had woken in the morning, remembering her dream. He wouldn't let her fall, and she felt it.

Edward watched her from behind his desk while he ate. He was starting to really dislike her attitude today. He wanted the sweet Bella from the night before, not this short-tempered girl. The air around them had been tense all day, almost ominous.

"Tell me what's wrong, Bella," he tried, growing tired of the heavy silence. Couldn't the stupid girl see that this was all her own doing? If she hadn't left his house yesterday and then threatened to leave again, he would never have had to bring her here.

Edward was starting to worry that he wouldn't be able to help this girl. But he didn't want to let her go. As a matter of fact, he actually wouldn't mind having her glued to his side, where no one but he could touch her, and she couldn't hurt herself.

She violently stabbed a piece of tomato and glared at him. She hated him, especially after the dream she'd had last night. He wouldn't let her go, and she had felt _safe_. She was supposed to _want_ to fall down from that edge, and now he'd ruined it.

She was scared out of her wits that she would never escape his care.

"That's enough, Isabella," he declared and his green eyes glinted dangerously.

She was in dangerous territory again, but... it wasn't as if he would do anything to her while at work. She stubbornly kept quiet and ate the tomato.

"Go lock the door," he commanded her, putting the rest of his sandwich in the waste basket beneath the desk.

She swallowed hard and stared at him, wide-eyed. She swiftly shook her head. He wouldn't do anything to her now, he just couldn't. He was at work. There were others here.

"Go lock the door or I'll use my belt on you, you stubborn girl," he threatened, frankly not caring about the licking flames of guilt (and desire) up his spine.

Her hands trembled as she put her salad next to her on the black leather of the couch.

"You can't-,"

"I can and I will, Bella. Go lock the door, we don't want any visitors."

He followed her movements like an eagle when she stood up on shaking legs, walked to the door, and clicked the lock in place.

Alice, on the other side of it, widened her eyes at the sound and then smirked like an evil pixie. All the ways she would be able to annoy and tease her boss with this were endless. Sneakily, she crept up to the door and put her ear against it, disappointed when she only heard a muffled voice. _Damn, prudish Edward._

She sulkily returned to her desk.

Inside the office, Edward continued to watch Bella, almost amused by her deer-look. She had brought this on herself.

"Come here," he commanded quietly, pointing to the floor next to his chair.

She slowly made her way there, her heart thundering loud enough for the whole building to hear it felt like. He looked dangerous where he sat all cool and calm and collected. She worried her lip.

He stood up next to her, towering over her as usual. Almost absentmindedly, he moved a few things to the right part of the desk, leaving the space to the left unoccupied. He fought back the guilt for what he was about to do, and turned to her with finality.

Bella shuddered when she saw his face, cold and determined. She liked the concerned Edward better, she concluded, and then started to tell herself that it didn't matter what he would do to her.

He could beat her black and blue with his belt for all she cared; anything was closer death than this.

Edward watched in almost-panic how the life (and fear) in her eyes disappeared, leaving room for nothingness. He pulled his hair as he watched her retreat inside herself again, only leaving an empty body for him.

"Don't do that, Bella," he whispered and shook her slight shoulders. Why did she have to do this to him? That... _dead_ look broke his heart.

She stared back at him indifferently with flat, brown eyes.

Edward took a deep breath and tried to calm down, recalling the memory of her 'thank you' after he'd done this to her just an hour after they'd met.

But the last time he'd spanked her, it had been in dizzy rage.

"Bend over the desk," he whispered, biting his tongue hard when she did as he asked without another word (or blush). What was wrong with this girl? If she didn't want this, she would loathe him afterwards. He wouldn't be able to handle that.

But on the other hand, he couldn't handle her attitude either, or her stupid, suicidal ideas. Not to mention that strange feeling of foreboding. He was irritated again; he wanted her sweet and meek and lovely.

In a few fluid motions he had pulled up her dress and pulled down her pantyhose, leaving her white cotton panties on.

Fourteen loud, angry smacks later, his sweet girl was sobbing quietly, her pain streaming out in a salty, bitter liquid. But she was looking at him in confusion and he raised his eyebrows at her questioningly as he straightened her clothes and helped her up.

She sagged against him, and he selfishly held her little body for a while.

"Why does that feel good?" she asked in between hiccups, having that strange sense of feeling alive again. Her behind was burning, but she felt _light_, in a way, and the particular feeling of suffocation she'd had all day was gone.

He chuckled at her question. Had he gotten his hands on a little masochist?

"It wasn't supposed to, sweet girl. That attitude of yours was getting on my nerves," he whispered and kissed her hair. She was adorable. "Now tell me what was wrong."

She rolled her eyes against his chest and wondered if he was just plain stupid.

"I don't want to be here."

"I've told you that we're not having that discussion, Bella. I'm serious. It's honestly not your choice any longer. Stop nagging."

She broke free from his hug and sniffled, hating him again.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you care?"

"Why wouldn't I care that a lovely young woman tried to take her own life?" he bit back, thoroughly frustrated with her again. Couldn't they just catch a break for once?

"But it's none-,"

"We're not talking about this. Sit down and read your book." He gently pushed her towards the couch and smiled slightly when she sat down without further argument and started flipping through the pages, soon engrossed in the story.

_A little discipline was never wrong,_ he thought in relief.

***

Isabella Swan was _breaking_ on the inside.

Little knives of hot, searing pain were stabbing their way through her chest, leaving it a bleeding mess of feelings. All of this was getting too much for her to handle. She was _breaking_; there was no other word to describe it.

It had started with little nags of pain and then escalated throughout the afternoon. Every time he said or did anything sweet, it would become worse.

Her body and mind were protesting loudly; they had been set on the fact that she wouldn't have to _be_ much longer. And now, now that she wasn't sure if she would ever be able to put an end to her life, they'd had enough.

She cast a glance at Edward out of the corner of her eye, watching him drive like a maniac through the streets (as much as was possible in the New York-traffic).

Discreetly she tried to stop her ribcage from falling apart by keeping her arms around it, hugging it tightly. She just had to survive the ride to his house, and then, _blood be damned_, she wasn't going to _be_ any longer.

It was all Edward's fault. He reminded her so much of mommy and daddy, and he took care of her. And he helped her._ And _she had gotten back the eerie feeling that if she spent another day with him, she would suffocate under his care, and give up the whole plan of _not being._

_Even though she didn't deserve it._

He had been so nice and sweet to her the rest of the day; it would have been easier for her to continue hate him if he had been cold and demanding as usual. But he cared, even though she didn't understand why, and it was_ breaking _her. Not even her throbbing behind could distract her from his kindness.

The hugging wasn't working, and a sob escaped.

Edward's eyes snapped to her in alarm.

"Bella?" he asked, watching in mild panic how she started to hyperventilate.

The car came to a screeching halt in an almost empty street, just a minute away from his house.

"Bella?" he tried again, releasing her seat belt and then trying to pry her arms away from around her chest. He could see her fingernails digging through the soft, thin fabric of the dress and winced.

"Easy, Bella... goddamnit, Bella!" he said a little louder and grabbed her chin, forcing her too look at him. What he saw scared him; her haunted expression so filled with pain, her bloodshot eyes and the complete lack of reaction.

A pained, panicked, dead girl was staring back at him.

"Calm down, Bella. Calm down..."

"I told you to let me go," she accused between ragged breaths. She could see him through the haze of pain: all that concern. Sobs and tears escaped her in a flowing symphony of pain.

_It hurt..._

Edward had never really understood the meaning of 'crying one's heart out', but he supposed that this was what he witnessed right now. He quickly reached for her and pulled her onto his lap, holding her there tightly.

He didn't understand what was happening (the panic attack, he did understand, but what brought it on was a mystery to him). He swore under his breath when he saw her fingernails red with blood after he'd pried them off her ribcage. She'd broken the dress and herself.

He pressed her little body closer to his own and shushed her gently. She was shaking out of her skin now, still sobbing heartbreakingly. This girl was high-maintenance, he thought idly now that most of his panic was gone, kissing her hair repeatedly.

Edward lost track of time as they sat there, Bella's breathing slowing down gradually, her body relaxing and molding into his. In those long moments she wasn't the woman he wanted in his bed (for various pleasurable reasons), she was a child, a baby that needed comfort and soft kisses filled with promises of hope and... _life._

"I _want _to die, Edward. It hurts... please?" she whispered into his neck, barely aware of what she was saying. The wish had been branded into her mind, for such long time.

"I won't let you _die_, Bella. You are _so_ young, you still have so much to live and see..." he trailed off, pressing his lips against her forehead.

"It hurts too much," she choked out, the tears flowing faster again. It felt like she had cried gallons already. If she hadn't been such a stupid girl, they would've at least loved her when they were taken away by some mean fate.

"What hurts?" he asked worriedly and stroked his hand over the wounds on her ribs. They were going to need attending to.

"Living."

He sighed deeply, feeling his own eyes tear up by her admission. He blinked them away, irritated. What could he possibly do to make her hurt less? He wasn't exactly helping, with his preferences and behavior towards her. For the second day today, Edward considered the fact that he could have bitten off more than he could chew when trying to help this girl.

Though the thought of leaving her now was absolutely abhorrent to him.

"Let's get you home, little girl," he sighed and gave her on last kiss on the forehead.

Her face perked up suddenly, no more than an inch from his own, and he resisted the need to kiss her wet cheeks and the pout that was firmly in place.

"Home?" she asked hoarsely, surprised. Had he finally come to his senses?

"Home," he said and rolled his eyes, putting her back in her own seat.

He started the car and within two minutes, they were back at his house, one of them relieved, the other one simply too tired to care that this wasn't their own home.

***

Edward had just finished a call to a certain Dr. Hale and was now looking for the little first-aid kit that should be located somewhere in the kitchen.

After they's arrived home, he'd helped Bella out of the car and then up the stairs of the house, to her room where she was now resting.

He found the kit in a cupboard and then walked up the stairs to what he now referred to as _Bella's room._ She was lying on her stomach, face planted firmly into a pillow, but didn't appear to be crying at least. Edward wasn't sure he could handle any more tears today.

"Bella?" he asked quietly, closing the door behind him. He walked forward and sat down on the edge of the bed, stroking her hair (it was quickly becoming one of his favourite things to do).

She turned her head so that she could watch him, feeling resigned now. There was no way he would let her go; she had seen it in his eyes when he'd held her in the car. She would just have to live... at least until he grew tired of her, and she had gathered enough bravery (stupidity, in Edward's eyes, surely) to try again.

"Sit up for me," he said, again with the imperative, she thought dryly, but was too tired to really bitch about it.

She did as he said and sat next to him on the bed.

"I need to take care of those wounds," he announced and showed her the first-aid kit, smiling a little at what he was about to do. Her red-rimmed eyes widened a bit at his mischievous tone.

He was happy as long as he could distract her from any darker thoughts or more pain.

"Take that dress off, little girl."

Her mouth formed an adorable "o", and he chuckled lightly.

"I can keep my hands to myself," he smirked and leaned closer to her ear to touch the shell of it with his lips.

She shuddered and goosebumps broke out on her skin. It had been so long since someone had touched her like that, whispered rough words in her ear... _desired her_. Bella didn't protest when he pulled down the zipper on the back of the dress and let the light fabric glide off her shoulders and rest at her waist.

Her skin was golden, glowing cream against the wireless, baby pink scrap of lace she wore in the dim light from the bedside lamp. He teasingly snapped the strap against her shoulder and then told her to lie down on her side. She blushed her usual shade of red but did as she was told.

Bella winced when he applied antiseptic on a little pad and pressed it against the cuts from her nails. She silently cursed her own stupidity. She was rather sure that he was enjoying this; _all caring_, she thought bitterly.

Edward methodically (though grumbling slightly about 'silly, suicidal girls') patched her up on both sides of her ribcage and placed a light kiss on her shoulder when he was finished, hiding his ire about her causing herself such pain.

"There you go, little girl. You'd better cut those nails, though. They're deadly," he warned angrily and grabbed one of her little hands to inspect the nails. "A complete waste of beautiful fabric," he muttered and let go of her hand to caress the swirls of thin material around her waist.

Without Edward's consent (or at least he'd liked to think so), his hand was placed firmly in the slight curve over her rather narrow hips. His thumb skimmed lightly across the soft skin of her stomach, and Bella pulled in a surprised breath.

Edward was still sitting on the edge, Bella still facing him, on her side, looking up at him curiously. She had never been good at reading people, but couldn't help but think that Edward looked slightly dangerous as he stared back through narrowed, penetrating eyes.

She sat up in alarm when he squeezed her waist a bit harder.

"What are you doing?" she squeaked when he pulled her roughly against his chest, leaving her half-sitting on his lap.

"You are _never_ going to hurt yourself again. Am I clear?" he said, and his voice was hard, cool ice.

She nodded, more scared than honest, and tried to wiggle out of his hold.

Edward groaned when she moved and held her slight, warm body still, burying his face in the crook of her neck. The girl was going to be the death of him. He traced her spine with his fingers but reluctantly let her go when she started to push his chest, letting out tiny whimpers.

She stood up in front of him, covering her upper body with the dress and glowered at him.

"You can't-," she stuttered, but he interrupted by raising both his hands, symbolizing surrender with wide eyes. _Now he'd really fucked up._

"I'm sorry. That was out of line. I apologize."

Edward was forcing himself to remember that she was just a little baby, not a woman in tantalizing underwear who was looking at him with witch-eyes, turning him feral. It was difficult at the moment.

"I'm sorry," he repeated stiffly and stood up, ignoring certain throbbing parts. He walked to the door and opened it, turning to her in the doorway.

She was staring at her feet, blushing and feeling a little ridiculous at her outburst. She had been more exposed to him than this. Hesitantly, she took a few steps forward, not knowing what to say to make him understand that she hadn't meant to panic. He was beautiful and attractive and nice and he had only hugged her. He'd done that before, hadn't he?

"Put on some pyjamas and come downstairs. I'll order pizza and we can... watch a movie, or something," he muttered, pulling his hair. He felt like an awkward teenage boy.

He left her room without another word.

***

After a _very_ cold shower (still trying to avoid anymore guilt), a phone call to a pizza place and another formal apologize to little Bella, Edward was sprawled out on the couch in his living room.

Bella was sitting on a soft cushion on the floor beneath the place where his head rested on the couch, sipping a glass of coke. She could almost feel his breath on the back of her head. She watched the thriller with no bigger interest, but watching a romantic comedy with Edward would have been... a complete disaster. He didn't seem to be that kind of man. She leaned against the couch and sighed heavily.

The pain in her chest was completely gone, all cried out, and she could feel her heart beating. It was a strange sensation, feeling alive. For the moment, she didn't wish for death, but the will to live... she couldn't find it. She couldn't feel an ounce of motivation to finally start dealing with her life, to build it back together.

And she had no idea how to do it either.

Edward heard her resigned sigh and petted her hair a little, leaving his hand on her head. His poor little girl... having a breakdown like that must have been exhausting. And then having some _old man _putting his hands all over her...

"I don't mind that you hug me," she suddenly said, reaching for his hand to take it in her own. He smiled a little at the differences between the hands. His own looked absolutely monsturous compared to hers. She was stroking his wrists with soft fingers, seeming to feel the hair there, and then let it go.

"And how do you feel about kissing, little Bella?" he asked lightly, but still hesitant after her reaction earlier. No man wanted to feel like he had done something against such a sweet girl's will.

"Oh... I like kissing. All kinds of kissing, actually," she giggled, happy that he was distracting her again.

Edward chuckled, leaving his hand to rest on her shoulder. Then he bent his head over hers, tilted her chin up with his other hand and pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

***

_I've never considered just how difficult it is to make a story at least _somewhat _realistic. It's _draining.

_I mean, their whole situation is _so_ absurd... And these two persons are just... strange._

_And now Doc is muttering about "fan_fuck_fiction... realistic, my ass..."_

_He's so sweet. Ugh._


	5. The Comeback of the Reasonable Man

_It's fiction, people, okay? And dark themes, don't forget. You really didn't like Edward in the last chapter._

_I did disappoint you and I'm sorry about that. _

_This update was quite late, I have been writing an essay on "Albert Einstein, paradoxical consequences and painfully misplaced philosophy".  
And I've helped Doc revising for his last examination... It was ridiculous. I can't even _pronounce_ half of the words those poor doctors are supposed to know._

_Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns the names._

_This is 'The Comeback of the Reasonable Man'..._

_***_

"I really am sorry about yesterday, Bella."

"It's okay. You stopped, if you hadn't, I would have _ca_strated you," she answered and Edward watched in fascination (and slight worry for his manly parts) as she threw him a bright smile over her shoulder and continued making them god-knows-what for breakfast.

She was all smiles this morning, and for a second, he actually considered the fact that she might be bipolar. He frowned and sipped some coffee, deciding to tell her about Dr Hale.

"I've made an appointment for you. With a Dr Rosalie Hale," he told her carefully, trying to gauge her reaction.

"Those scratches are fine, Edward," she answered, bewildered, and turned to fully face him.

He rolled his eyes at her. Silly girl.

"A psychiatrist," he informed and watched Bella blanch. If she was ever going to get better... "It's for the best. You need it, sweet girl," he tried, not wanting to fight with her when she was all sunshine.

"When?" she whispered and leaned against the kitchen counter for support. Why was he doing this to her? He should stay out of it. Maybe she could tell him that she didn't feel like dying quite yet. The thought made her bite back a giggle. She could only imagine his reaction.

"Monday morning. I've taken the morning off. I'll drive you there and then wait for you," he told her softly and beckoned her forwards with a wave of his hand. She stepped in between his legs where he sat on a bar stool, and he wrapped his arms around her.

She was irresistible when she was this calm and serene, without panic attacks and yelling.

"How are you today?" he asked her gently, a little concerned since yesterday's events.

"I'm fine," she breathed back and hugged him tighter, remembering the kiss he'd given her the evening before.

He seemed to do the same, and asked her what kind of kisses she really liked, a smirk firmly in place. She giggled and decided to maybe shock him a little.

"Uhm, pecks, and those light kisses one can place along someone's neck... those give me goosebumps. And French kissing, of course," she laughed, trying to copy his smirk.

Edward pursed his lips at her list, thinking a bit suspiciously about those neck-kisses. And the French kisses.

"And how many boys have you kissed, little girl?" he asked her, feeling the jealousy bubble up. His thoughts strayed to the Jacob-boy, with the bad influence. He huffed.

"Oh," she smiled broadly, "lots and lots. My favourite pastime." She couldn't help but kiss his stubble-clad cheek when he started muttering under his breath. He seemed relaxed (and young) this morning, she thought, enjoying the banter. He was always so tense otherwise, at least what she'd seen of him.

Maybe that was her fault. He was worried about her, and he cared. If she tried to be a little happier, maybe he would relax, and she would save her ass some pain. She was a smart girl. Bella nodded absentmindedly at her plan, now that the _other one _had been put on ice... for the moment.

"And what kind of kisses do you like?" she blushed, and stepped out of his arms.

He shook his head at her, silently wondering where all this_ life _suddenly came from. She was lovely, stunning really.

"Well," he began, stroking his chin thoughtfully, "I like to kiss pretty, young women with mahogany hair and pale skin and pink lips. Do you know anyone you could introduce me to?"

She rolled her eyes at him. He really had the worst sense of humour she'd ever experienced. It was all clichéd and charming, in that romcom way. Perhaps they should have watched a movie like that anyway.

"Ugh," she exclaimed and turned to finish their omeletts. "You also like kissing women who are tied to your bed," she accused, not quite being able to wrap her mind around it.

He hummed and considered her words, once again feeling old and perverted. Poor little Bella, being stuck with him. The thought of her tied to his bed proved to be a difficult image to ignore, but at the memory of how she'd reacted yesterday when he'd touched her, he felt ill.

He cleared his throat and sipped his coffee.

"Yeah, I do."

"Do you want _me_ tied to your bed?"

Edward choked on the coffee, coughing loudly. What the hell had happened to the Bella he knew? And what the hell was he supposed to answer to that? It wasn't as if he could do anything to sweet, innocent little Bella.

Bella had her back turned to him, trying desperately to hold back the mischievous giggles. He was such a funny man... and he was speechless for once. A little burst of laughter escaped her anyway, and she held a hand to her mouth to keep quiet.

Edward almost-growled from behind her. The girl was making fun of him.

"Be careful, little Bella. I might interpret that question as an offer."

He eyes widened as she turned the omelet in the pan. She had never tried something like that. She scratched her eyebrow and tried to imagine it. It wasn't that difficult. She'd already been cuffed to her own bed. But Edward kissing her, touching her, Edward inside...

She abruptly stopped at that thought. He was a stranger. A beautiful one, but still kind of _old_. And he could be mean and despotic and all controlling. She shook her head.

He had hurt her as well...but not really _hurt-hurt_, and he did stop when she told him to, both when he touched her and when he (she grimaced) _spanked_ her.

"I'm only joking, Bella. I would never... I mean, I haven't even _kissed_ you properly."

Bella ignored him, feeling a little sad all of a sudden, and divided the omelet onto two plates, placing one of them in front of Edward.

"Thank you," he sighed, but pulled his hair, angry with himself for ruining her good mood.

Bella half-smiled a little and started eating, keeping her eyes glued to the plate. She was curious at her own feelings for him. _He_ was obviously attracted to her, but she didn't know what to think about him. She didn't mind kissing him, at least. But she was practically kidnapped... she smiled at that. However, he hadn't locked her in the basement or anything. Perhaps this was some kind of Stockholm-syndrome.

"What brought this good mood on?" he asked, trying to make her smile again.

She just shrugged. She didn't know why she felt so light. Perhaps it was because she had been balancing on an edge, and now (no matter how unwillingly) she had taken a step back, standing on solid ground.

"What brought _your _good mood on?" she shot back.

"You," he smiled crookedly.

"O-kay," she muttered, "eew." He really could be disgustingly charming. And handsome. He only wore a simple white tee and dark jeans this morning, and Bella found herself fascinated with the few hairs visible on his chest above the neckline.

"Will you go and see Dr Hale?" he asked her impatiently, remembering that she hadn't actually said that she would go.

"As if you won't spank me if I don't," she mumbled and took another bite of the omelet, blushing a bit.

Edward sighed deeply. She had never _literally_ said that she didn't want to be punished. He had stopped when she'd asked him the first time, and the second time the only thing she'd seemed to be worried about was other people hearing.

"You can always say no, or stop," he informed her quietly, "you just seem to accept punishment so easily." He felt guilty, which seemed to be a constant state for him nowadays. Could he do nothing right by this young woman?

Bella stared at him, contemplating his words. She hadn't really told him 'no', any of the two times... but on the other hand, it hadn't felt as if she had a say in it. But he had stopped when she'd told him to. And the pain she had felt was, she gulped, _relieving_.

Now she was just confused.

"Does it turn you on?"

"Not in that context, no," he answered, and his eyes glinted coldly, and he was a bit offended. He wasn't a complete monster. The only reason he had felt any desire yesterday was of the thought of her obedient... and the fact that her skin was smooth and flawless, young and pale.

"In what context then?"

"Sex."

"BDSM," she stated, looking down at her plate and then moved the up to meet Edward's, which were round of surprise. She huffed and rolled her eyes. "Everyone knows what that is, _master_," she mockingly said, but giggled a little.

The man was seriously funny.

"So this is the old, predatory man, taking advantage of the poor, young girl in trouble... do you have one of those rooms?" she asked, with what she hoped was a deadpan look.

He stared in open-mouthed surprise at the girl for about two seconds (it might have been more), and then broke into a full, broad grin.

"_Where_ does all this sass come from, little girl?"

That brought her back to a cold, harsh, reality. She hadn't joked around with someone for so long; just wallowed in self-pity and guilt and shame. Her eyes teared up, and she felt angry again; she hadn't cried at all until he entered her life.

Edward pulled his hair when he saw her eyes go watery, and then stood up to walk around to her. He bent down and kissed her cheeks lightly, relieved that they weren't _completely_ wet.

"Hush now, Bella," he tried to sooth, holding her tightly. "No more crying, okay? You don't ever have to be scared of me. I'll be good. You can say no to any damn punishment or touching or shit. I just ever wanted to help you, hold you a little. Save you, Bella," he whispered, worried that his words might have caused the impromptu waterfall. He had wanted her to feel, but all these tears were breaking _him_.

"I don't want to die and I don't want to live, Edward. What do you do then?"

"You let someone that cares for you help you, until you've gotten that fire back, Bella. You're too sweet and good to be wasted on death."

She laughed through her tears, and Edward frowned. The girl was certainly quite strange, and switched moods faster than himself.

"You are _so_ cheesy, it's disgusting," she hiccuped, drying her tears on his t-shirt. She was starting to suspect that she was just hormonal today, and grimaced when she remembered the little chart of pills that was laying on her bedside table at home.

Damnit.

He hugged her for another minute, and then let go of her, returning to his own seat.

"Will you go?"

She shrugged and grimaced, Dr Hale couldn't force her to speak of anything she didn't want to, could she?

"Okay."

"Good girl," he smiled, pleased with her answer, but still worried about her little breakdown. He was eager to change the subject, hopefully back to light teasing and bantering. She had a certain air of sweet sass around her, one that he was actually starting to appreciate. At least it was better than those tears and sad eyes.

"I'm free all day. Is there anything you'd like to do?" he asked her (which was quite the generous thing to do, Bella thought sarcastically).

"You can show me your torture chamber?" she giggled, hiding behind her hair. Old, snarky Bella still hadn't taken over completely, and the subject was just a bit too personal to discuss over breakfast with a man she'd known for three days.

Edward chuckled.

"I don't have one."

"Hmpf."

"Disappointed?" he smirked, wanting to kiss her again (badly) when she blushed bright red and shook her head. _Maybe she wasn't bipolar, just schizophrenic_.

He _really_ wanted to kiss her. For real; tongue and teeth and hair-pulling.

Bella thought it amazing how easily he could distract her. It wasn't fair. She watched him as he watched her, green eyes burning into brown ones, the tension thick in the air. He narrowed his eyes at her and she froze when she saw the look he gave her.

She knew what it was, and had seen it many times in dark clubs and dark bedrooms and brightly lit bathrooms.

A shiver went down her spine, in what was hard to pinpoint: fear or desire.

"Are you very opposed to _old_, predatory men taking advantage of you, _Bella_?"

"I don't know," she whispered, and gripped the edge of the island, holding it hard. Was she? She swallowed hard when his tongue peaked out to wet his lips.

His eyes cooled and he shook his head to clear it. That was out of question. He wouldn't touch her again, not in_ that _manner, anyway. And he hadn't liked her description of their situation. _Old and predatory_, he thought bitterly.

Bella seemed to be able to read his mind.

"You don't seem _that _old. I was only joking. And I don't hate you, even if I said so before. And... you can kiss me as much as you want," Bella muttered, looking away from him and the bucket-of-cold-water-stare. He was angry again, and a little placating seemed to be the best way to bring back his smile (or smirk, really).

"Well," he sighed, "I won't."

Bella huffed and raised her eyebrows skeptically.

_Right._

***

Edward was getting rather nervous as he walked through the house, opening doors and searching rooms.

_Where could she possibly be?_

It was dinner time soon, and he wanted to ask her if she would like to eat out tonight. He had spent most of the day locked in his office, working as usual, leaving little Bella to entertain herself.

He swung the door to the library open, and froze in the doorway. He wasn't an easily moved man, not very romantic at all (in his own opinion), and most definitely didn't practice poetry. But the aesthetically perfect picture in front of him made his heart beat harder with some unnamed emotion.

Bella was curled up on the rug by the fireplace (electrical, of course) with her eyes closed, a book open next to her. The light was dim, and gave her a dream-like quality, flames flickering over her face.

Edward leaned against the door frame and watched her for a few minutes, unable to do anything to disturb her peace. How could the silly little girl turn him into such a stranger?

She was a lovely thing when she was happy and peaceful. All her teasing insults and her tantrums were a small price to pay to have her here, he thought. He could live with it if he got to keep her for a while.

He walked into the room and knelt down next to her, picking up the book to look at the cover. "The Hours" by Michael Cunningham. She certainly had a depressing taste in books, and he grimaced before standing up to return it to the shelf. She should read Austen, or something. Hell, he would've preferred if she read those trashy romance novels instead of the books about death and suffering and depression.

Bella shifted on the rug, as if she could feel his close presence, and then her eyes fluttered open, focusing on him where he now stood bent over her. A tiny smile played in the corners of her mouth.

"You are _so_ creepy," she yawned and proceeded to sit up. "Watching me sleep is going a little too far."

Edward chuckled and sat down next to her, happy that he was closer to thirty than forty and in good shape, when he thought about getting up from there again.

Bella was still slightly dizzy from sleep, and leaned her head on his shoulder, smelling him as usual.

He kissed her hair softly, forgetting about his words from the kitchen in the morning.

"You are one tired young lady, Bella," he smiled.

"I know," she said and yawned again, stretching a little. She had years of sleep to recover. And the rug had been comfortable, and she had felt as if she was part of a book when she had curled up in front of the fire. She loved this library, and for the moment, she really didn't want to return to the cold, sterile apartment of her parents.

Not that he would make her go back. He seemed quite insistent on keeping her here. But you never knew with him...

"Edward?" she started, trying to smile sweetly at him. "May I please stay with you a little longer? Please? I promise I'll behave like you want me-,"

"You're not leaving here," he snapped, irritated that she would offer to change her behavior. _That's where spanking her gets you_, he thought grumpily, almost regretting it.

"_Thank you_. I'll behave."

"Don't change who you are," he muttered, "I'm not changing who I am."

"I'll be good," she smiled and snuggled closer.

"You'll be who you are."

"I _am_ good."

"Of course you are," he smiled reluctantly (it was difficult not to). "Now, little girl, what I really wanted to ask you was if you would like to have dinner out tonight?" he asked, and combed his fingers through her hair.

Bella thought about it for a moment, not overly pleased with the idea. She liked it here; it was cozy and warm and comforting. She wondered if he would be very disappointed if she said no. After all, she_ had _promised that she would be good. For now.

"Well?" he said impatiently, shaking her shoulders gently.

"I'd rather stay ho-, here," Bella answered, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach at the word that had almost slipped out. This wasn't _home_.

Edward also felt uncomfortable, but only slightly, and decided to save the situation the best he could, _before_ she had another breakdown..

"Of course, Bella. We'll order some food. We can eat it in here, if you'd like."

"Global Head of Compliance," she mumbled into his shirt, surprised that he didn't fight her.

"Yep."

***

Later, half-way through the night, Edward (a man suffering from both too much work and too much on his mind) was laying awake, lazily flipping through some paperwork in the light from his bedside lamp.

It was difficult to concentrate. For he was starting to suspect that he was falling in love with the silly, but beautiful, girl sleeping on the other side of the wall to his right. Attraction was one thing. One could be attracted to someone they'd just met. Love was a whole different matter. _One couldn't love someone they'd just met_.

It just wasn't possible.

She had been so very sweet the rest of the evening, asking about his work and family, interests and hobbies. Surprisingly competently had she kept the conversation flowing, animately answering his questions in return.

A lovely little thing.

He frowned when the knob to his bedroom door was turned slowly, and the lovely little thing in question's face peaked out from behind the dark wood.

"Why aren't you sleeping, Bella?" he asked, putting away the reports and taking in her appearance. She was wearing the pajamas he'd bought for her, standing in the doorway blushing.

He was surprised, but secretly pleased. How many times had he imagined her in his bedroom?

She shrugged and hesitantly stepped inside. She wasn't sure that what she was doing was a great idea, but she had been alone for so long. Was it wrong to just want a little company? Maybe a warm body next to her own... someone who could hold her when she was asleep?

Edward had been so good to her all day, joking and talking, without any stupid threats of punishment.

"CanIsleepinyourbed?"

"Yesyoucansweetgirl," he chuckled back and patted the space next to him. "Could you not sleep?"

Bella ignored his question and hesitated at the foot of the bed, glancing at his bare chest suspiciously.

"You're not naked, are you?" she asked and eyed the covers hiding the rest of his body.

Edward rolled his eyes.

"Boxers," he answered and smiled when she climbed in next to him, snuggling up close. Such a strange little girl, all alone and attention-craving.

"What were you reading?" she asked him, awkwardly stroking some of his chest hair.

Edward was confused, and kissed her hair, just as awkwardly.

"What are you doing, Bella?" he asked her, ignoring her question and stilling her hand on his chest. "You wouldn't let me touch you yesterday, but now you're in my bed. What's going on?"

She didn't know, she really didn't know. And she really wasn't fair to him, changing her mind all the time.

"You can touch me," she whispered, convinced that she wouldn't mind it. Yesterday had been strange, though... well, the last three, almost four, days had been strange, mind-boggling, really.

"I'm not going to," he snapped, and rolled over so that his back was against her, fuming with irritation. _What the hell was wrong with the girl?_ He switched off the lamp, turning the room into a sea of heavy darkness and flaring tension.

Bella huffed quietly and buried her face in a pillow that smelled just like him. He had worse mood-swings than herself. Angrily, she smacked his shoulder blade with her palm, growling slightly.

"Cut it out, Isabella," he muttered, rather amused by that kittenish fury, but hiding it well.

For a long time, they were completely quiet, the only sound was of slow breathing. When Edward was sure that his silly girl was fast asleep, he rolled over again and put an arm around, her hugging her close. She was so slight (and warm and soft and feminine) in his arms, he mused, vulnerable and innocent in her sleep.

"I thing this counts towards touching, Edward," she whispered smugly and and he sighed, resigned and too tired to care about her attitude.

"I ought to spank you," he mumbled and pressed her closer.

Bella blushed in the dark, and remembered his words from earlier that day. _'You can always say no, or stop.' _It was comforting, and his whole I'm-a-man-of-my-word speech came back to her. He was kind, and beautiful, and he put up with her. With her tears and breakdowns and her horrible mood-swings.

"Thank you," she whispered, sniffling a little. "For taking care of me."

"It's my pleasure," he answered, but Bella thought she could detect a bit of hesitation in the words. It hurt her, but she could understand it.

"I promised that I would be good. I can be a woman of my word."

Edward felt strangely emotional at her words. She would be good (in his meaning of the word), wouldn't she?

"Eat healthy, sleep soundly, treat me with respect and don't hurt yourself," he whispered and kissed her forehead. "My good girl."

Bella smiled at his words.

***

Un peu_ fluff for you... Edward's going soft, I think._

_Silly man. _


	6. Coincidences

_I know, I suck._

_Here's the chapter..._

_Apparently, I'm using fancy lines instead of those little stars this time._

* * *

When Edward woke up, his face was partially hidden in a mess of long, brown hair.

And then he was looking into the deep-brown, alert eyes of his Bella, who didn't seem at all sleepy. Rather a bit anxious.

"What?" he grumbled and covered a yawn.

"Morning."

"Morning," he frowned, cast a quick glance at his alarm clock and groaned. Quickly, he planted a kiss on Bella's head, and then proceeded to roll out of bed, not minding about his almost-nakedness.

"Fix us some light breakfast, will you? I'll just go upstairs for a few minutes. The gym."

Bella sneaked a peak at him and blushed, but narrowed her eyes when she heard what he said.

"It's not the 50's, Edward," she exclaimed, a bit too loudly.

"Just do what you're told," he snapped back, not feeling in a particularly good mood this morning. He had woken hours later than he was used to, and was stressing out about bringing Bella to brunch with his family.

"Ass."

Edward stalked out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

* * *

"Yes, I'm pissed off. It's a normal, human reaction when someone calls you 'ass'. Didn't you promise to be good?" Edward fumed, and let his hand fall down hard on the steering wheel.

Bella jumped slightly, but continued to argue.

"I'm not going to be good, if you're not being good."

Edward pushed down the breaks violently before a red light and turned to face the irritating little girl to his right.

"You're in so much trouble when we get home."

"So you're going to _spank _me just because you're in a bad_ mood?_" she spat, tears forming in her eyes.

"You are being disrespectful!"

"So are you!"

Edward clenched his jaw. He supposed he hadn't been on his most gentlemanly behavior this morning. He silently fumed for a few minutes while sneaking occasional glances at Bella who was stubbornly staring out the window with teary eyes.

"I'm sorry," he grumbled gruffly, "it was disrespectful. I apologize."

She sniffled before mumbling something Edward couldn't quite catch.

"Excuse me?"

"My pills are in the bathroom at home... I mean my parents' apartment. I'm just... unbalanced. Birth-control, you know..."

Edward groaned. Jesus. _Women._

And then he felt bad. The poor girl couldn't help it. He had been inconsiderate and ignorant of her needs. Sweet little Bella who couldn't help her terrible luck; did it have to be Edward who found her on that roof?

But he didn't regret taking her home with him. He _couldn't_ regret it, not when she was such an adorable, enticing girl.

Gently, he grabbed one of her hands and held it, squeezing it reassuringly.

"We can go to your apartment after brunch, if you'd like. Do you need to pick up anything else?"

"I suppose."

As usual, they were straddling a very fine line between soft-spoken compliments and harsh words.

When they stopped in front of the restaurant and Edward handed his keys over to the valet, he found that Bella was not very eager to step out of the car and into the restaurant.

Quietly insistent, he pulled her towards the entrance by her hand.

"Wait."

Sighing, Edward stopped and faced her, placing a comforting kiss on her forehead. The truth was, he was suspecting that introducing her to his parents would be quite the disaster. He wasn't sure that they would approve of someone so young, or how they'd met. Or that he'd known her less than week.

"You have nothing to worry about. Even if they disapprove of our... situation," Edward frowned at this, "they would never show it. They're too well-mannered."

Though he would definitely hear about it later.

"Can't you just say that we're friends, Edward? Please? What _are_ we anyway? I'm not your girlfriend... please, Edward?" Bella begged and stared up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

That look could make anyone cave, so Edward closed his eyes and cursed under his breath.

"They wouldn't believe it for one second. And I thought we had already established that you were mine?" he said, and added the last part hastily.

* * *

In the meanwhile, Esme and Carlisle Cullen were watching their interaction through the window where they were seated, waiting for their only son.

"Did he mention a girl to you?" Carlisle asked his wife, and smirked (not wholly unlike his son) when Edward seemed to try to resist what could only be referred to as 'puppy eyes' from the mysterious young woman.

"No, not at all," Esme answered distractedly, trying to figure out who the pretty, brown-haired girl could possibly be.

She choked on her coffee when Edward bent down and kissed the girl, holding her to his lips by a hand on the back of her head for a long moment.

Edward had never been a big fan of public displays of affection. Esme turned to her husband and smiled giddily.

"I suppose it's time to plan a wedding and start knitting bootees, don't you?"

"Yes, perhaps this time, darling," Carlisle replied, unconvinced.

* * *

"Mom, dad, this is Isabella," Edward introduced her, holding her firmly to his side.

Bella was slightly irritated (it seemed like Edward was immune to even her biggest pout), but smiled anyways. The scene reminded her of the high-society parties she had been forced to when she was younger, or the awkward dinners. Smile and nod. Smile and nod. _For God's sake, behave yourself, Isabella._

Carlisle stood up like a gentleman and shook her hand, just to proceed to kiss both her cheeks. She knew where Edward got his good looks from now. If only the gentlemanly behavior could have been passed down, as well.

He was a handsome man (not quite as handsome as Edward, though), with icy blonde hair and icy blue eyes. Bella wasn't good with guessing ages, but he seemed to be in his late fifties. Or maybe early sixties. Or late sixties.

Esme remained seated, silently communicating her shock to her son. She hadn't heard a thing about a woman, or _girl_. However, she tactfully buried her concern about the more than obvious age-difference between them, and fired off her warm, reserved-for-family-only, mother-smile, and squeezed Isabella's hand gently.

Esme looked just like Edward and had his coloring, only a way more feminine version.

"We're very pleased to meet you, Isabella."

Bella blushed and Edward sighed in relief.

The two parents watched curiously as Edward pulled out her chair and placed a light kiss on the top of her head. While Esme tried to choke back an awed sound, Carlisle thought of the few girls they had had the opportunity to meet. He recognized the type in Isabella: the shyness, the small physique, the air of innocence.

_Feminine vulnerability._

His son was indeed very particular about his preferences.

"So, Isabella, how did you meet Edward?" Carlisle asked after the couple had ordered, frowning when she shot Edward a panicked look.

Edward himself smiled pleasantly and sipped his coffee.

_Don't sweat it, Bella_, he thought.

"Uhm... we, we ran into each other... at Goldman, eh-,"

Esme tried to save the obviously distressed girl by glaring mildly at the two men.

"Oh, so you work there?" she smiled.

"Uh, no."

"Bella's had some trouble with her family. Quite the tragedy. I think she will start college this fall, won't you, _darling_?" Edward piped in, knowing he was unfair towards Bella, but still a little bit angry that she had had the nerve to tell him she wasn't his.

He regretted it when she gave him another desperate glance.

"Anyway, we're very happy together. _Very_," he stressed, smiling apologetically at Bella.

The rest of the brunch passed in a slightly more relaxed mode, except for the occasional questions Edward knew were best to dodge.

* * *

After almost two hours, they bade each other farewell and took off in opposite directions, Carlisle and Esme eagerly discussing the new relationship in the cab home.

"She's a beautiful girl, don't you think?"

"She is. But she's just the same as every girl he's introduced to us."

"How so?" Esme scolded. She had thought Isabella the loveliest so far.

"You and I both know he's only interested in one type of women, love."

"And which type might that be, Carlisle?" Esme asked, already knowing the answer.

She didn't know if she should be ashamed of her son. If his attraction to the meekest girls was something that could be blamed on his upbringing, or if it was simply no different than his taste for, let's say, _chocolate croissants_.

They were living in the twenty-first century, and Esme knew he didn't mind women he wasn't interested in to have a career just as successful as his own. But god-forbid anyone he was drawn to, to be independent and strong.

She couldn't figure it out.

Carlisle was mostly worried about their strange behavior and the fact that Edward appeared to be very much taking advantage of the young girl. At this time, they had to be in completely different stages of their lives.

The way Edward had been acting towards her had been almost rude in the beginning, and Carlisle was definitely going to have a little chat with his son about the right ways to treat a woman.

* * *

Bella had been fuming throughout brunch. His parents were just as bad as he was. Did they even realize that she was sitting at the same table?

Edward answered every question they had asked _her _after the initial one, and after that, they simply chose to ignore her.

It was unfair and it was mean. _Rude_. She had glared down at her plate as the conversation had been carrying on in front of her.

Without her participation.

_Well-mannered, my ass._

* * *

"I don't like your parents," she stated bluntly in the car to her parents' apartment.

"I figured," Edward muttered and patted her leg. He could kind of understand why. After he'd told them her age she'd been treated like a child. He was disappointed in them. "I'm sorry."

He wasn't even sure that they were aware of the fact that they had acted very rudely.

And he didn't realize that Bella found his own behavior just as appalling, the only reason she didn't mention it was that they'd already started this day off as shaky, and she was about to risk to ruin it completely.

"Can I ask you something, Edward?" she asked nervously, thinking about the thing that had bothered her since she'd met him. And now that she'd met his parents; Carlisle had been the perfect gentleman (towards Esme at least) and Esme herself appeared to be quite the strong, modern woman.

"Mhm?"

"Why do you... why are you always so-, you're very-,"

"Controlling, abusive, chauvinistic, _asshole-y_?" he spat, his defenses up at once (perhaps too quickly). He glared at Bella before turning his eyes back to the street. "Trust me, I've heard it all."

"But I don't understand, Edward. It's just... you've, uh, _spanked_ me. It's... difficult to think that you're not just using it as some poor excuse for... for... God, I don't know. Abuse?"

"So you think that, what, hitting women until they cry is a turn-on for me?" Edward was incredulous. He'd tried to explain it to her, how he didn't get off on what he'd done to her. "It's just sex, some bondage. It's about pleasure, not pain. I have no wish to see you cry. It's no worse than liking different types of food."

"So why did you do it to me? If it's just about sex? And I cried, Edward. It did hurt."

Edward was quiet, upset that she was upset. Had he spanked her against her will? Had he _hurt_ her? The thought of hurting her... It sliced through him like the blade of a very sharp knife.

"To help you," he said quietly, blinking away tears. "_Didn't I_?"

Bella stayed quiet, anxious about her own answer, remembering all too well the relieving pain, the outlet for her mental anguish.

"Yeah," she breathed.

He nodded, almost dizzy with relief and dried a tear off his cheek. He was stubbornly keeping his eyes straight forward.

"I'm sorry. Really. Sorry," she whispered, taken aback by the vulnerability he was showing.

"This happens every goddamn time, you know," he started, his voice hoarse. "I find a lovely girl, a lovely woman... think she's right for me... and as soon as I show her the real _me_, she's off like a fucking cheetah."

"I'm sorry."

They were silent the rest of the way, except for the occasional, whispered directions from Bella.

When Edward opened her car door, she tried to lighten the atmosphere, but with a serious offer.

"Will _you_ feel better if you... you know... spank me?"

He barked out a frustrated laugh at her offer, kissing her head. He grabbed her hand and led her towards the entrance.

"Bella, Bella, Bella..."

"What?" she blushed.

"If I did, I'd have to fu- _make love _to you afterward... I don't like doing it just for the hell of it... or maybe I do, huh," he smirked, and lifted his eyebrows suggestively. "But I'm not going to... rob you of your innocence," he continued and pretended to swirl a mustache.

Bella stared at him wide-eyed and incredulous. Innocence? As in _virginity_?

A nervous giggle escaped her.

"I'm_ twenty_, you know."

"Yes."

"I'm not... I've had _sex _before."

This was getting ridiculous, and it didn't help that giggles were bubbling up inside of her, refusing to be held back. This was absolutely the most embarrassing thing _ever._

Edward paused just outside the door, staring down at her.

Innocent Isabella? With her blush? Her shyness?

_And _who the hell_ had she given herself to?_

Edward didn't know if he should be amused or angry. Or just plain... turned on. There was no symbolic stealing of purity, no physical barriers, _nothing_ stopping him from taking what he wanted.

Except for Bella, of course.

She was a blubbering mess as she watched different emotions flicker over his face. He was completely frozen before her. She patted his chest lightly, and a snort escaped her when she caught his shocked eyes.

However, her laughter came to an abrupt end when his expression changed to one she recognized from yesterday: the narrowed eyes, the grim line of his lips, the dangerous air around him.

She swallowed hard and slowly opened the door, trying to escape while staring into his eyes.

"Do you want it, Bella? Want me?" he whispered, stopping her from opening the door by putting a hand over hers. He stared down at her petite body, her doe eyes, trying to read what she really wanted. She was too desirable for her own good.

When she hesitated with wide, apprehensive eyes, he stroked her cheek, ignoring the disappointment coursing through him. He'd known the poor little girl for less than a week. And they had enough problems to deal with as it was, without his inappropriate attraction to her.

When Bella saw his expression change into pity, she fiercely slapped away his hand.

"Yes, I want you," she hissed, angry with him for turning into someone who was like everyone else. "Not your fucking pity."

His eyebrows rose at her crude language, and he tapped a warning finger against her lips.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she singsonged, sticking her tongue out. He was _so_ overbearing.

"Jesus, Bella," he groaned, holding back laughter and ignoring her positive answer to his earlier question.

* * *

After getting the key to the apartment from the lobby guard where she'd left it, they were finally situated in the bright, painfully sterile and modern apartment of her parents.

Edward winced at the white surfaces and complete lack of personality. His own house was filled to the brim with things he appreciated and brought back nice memories to him.

He couldn't imagine living like this.

Casting a worried glance at Bella, he could see her visibly tense at the sight before her. He frowned and wrapped an arm around her, not sure he (or she, for that matter) could handle another breakdown.

She smiled tightly at him.

"Uh, this is... my place," she said awkwardly, and simultaneously fought back memories of all the fights, the tears, the yelling. Why hadn't she just behaved? She knew she was being punished for it.

But stubbornly, she had decided to spare Edward anymore tears and leaned into his chest to borrow some strength.

He was just as tense as she was.

"Give me ten seconds," she sighed and stumbled off towards a hallway.

Edward followed quietly, smiling when she opened the door and revealed the dream that was her room.

It was also white, eye-burningly so, but it was so very..._ fluffy_, as well. The carpet, the bed, the lacy curtains...

It was like heaven. Bella had lived in her own little cloud.

In a bold move, he sat down on her king-sized bed and smoothed the covers. He stayed like that until Bella returned from the en suite, toilet bag in hand and stared at him in surprise.

He wanted to kiss her in here, like a teenage-boy's first time in a girl room.

"Come here, Bella."

She stood before him and smiled at his expression. She liked it; it was a little dangerous, a little lust filled and very much tempting. He looked like a dark demon in his suit against the creamy white covers of her bed.

Her bed was high enough that they were eye-to-eye.

He placed his hands on her hips and smiled reassuringly; he never knew how she would react. Though she did seem relaxed as she she even showed a little toothy smile.

She looked young, but oh, so tempting.

"I like that smile," he said, "it makes me want to kiss you."

Before he really had time to decipher what had happened, she had placed a smacking kiss in the corner of his mouth, and uncharacteristically gracefully skipped around the bed, so that the (in Edward's eyes) now insulting object was between them.

Edward stood up.

She wanted to play.

She really wanted to. Her heart was beating faster in childish joy at the game she had come up with, even though she felt a not-so-childish tightening in her stomach when he licked his lips with a dark frown on his face.

He was such a funny man. She found herself actually enjoying teasing him and taunting him. In the moment his frown turned into a smirk, she almost found him insanely attractive.

It was a strange feeling. How she could go from comparing him to her father, to thinking of quite the steamy things involving him. But she felt young and free and playful, and didn't care enough to analyze it any deeper.

He was _hot. (At least when he was like this)_

Bella threw him a kiss across the bed.

"Bell-a..."

"Ed-ward," she mimicked.

"You do know that I could just walk around this bed and catch you, don't you?"

"You could try," she giggled.

Edward relished in the sound of happiness. This was what he wanted for her. What he wanted for _them_.

And so he continued the game, the one he felt slightly too old for.

"Hmm... I like you this mischievous. It gives me a reason to-,"

"You wouldn't!"

"Yes, I would. We've had this discussion. I like it in this _context_."

He smiled, broadly and genuinely when she didn't blanch, or showed any signs of being reluctant to the idea.

"I won't do it if you come here and... give me a kiss," he offered, his voice low and stern.

Bella pouted. Before she remembered that he seemed immune to it. Then she scowled.

"I don't think so, _Edward_."

"Well, you terrible girl, if that's your choice."

Edward stalked around the bed, and simply threw a squealing Bella over his shoulder. She shuddered when his warm hand and calloused fingertips founder their way under her black frilly, skirt and stopped at the lace rim of her stay-ups.

It was intimate. And it was welcomed.

Edward closed his eyes and stroked the smooth, sensitive skin of her upper thigh with his thumb. He felt that inexplicable tenderness towards her again. And he wanted to keep her, forever, he wanted her to be his and only his. He wanted to make her happy.

He laid down and brought Bella on top of him, smirking and trying to shake off his sudden seriousness.

But she saw it, how his expression changed into that adoring look. Not even his careful fingers against her thighs could distract her from it. She kissed him softly.

And whimpered when he pressed her firmly against him.

She whimpered again when his kisses became more frantic, aggressive, and he moved to hold her by her hair, turning her head in whatever direction he found the most pleasing.

It brought a small thrill through her.

This was what he liked.

His mouth was warm and soft, two adjectives Bella didn't really associate with him. That didn't make his kisses any less exhilarating at all.

Edward broke away from the kiss and moved his hands to her backside to rub little circles just beneath her the silk of her panties She was young and malleable against his hands. And too desirable for her own good.

"That's what good girls get..." he whispered

After landing a hard, (and not-so-unexpected), slap against her behind, her hips buckled against his own, and he groaned.

"And that's what bad girls get?" Bella breathed as Edward smiled smugly. "You're so predictable, Edward."

"Bella..." he warned when she rubbed lightly against him. He had a hard time remembering that she wasn't innocent, but this had certainly proved her quite the opposite. But then again, he wasn't sure he liked it.

_Typical manly behavior. Of course he wanted her pure and innocent and _completely inexperienced. _Bastard._

"What?" Bella asked, her insecurities making themselves known. He was the one who had initiated this whole thing... kind of. She clumsily got up from Edward and the bed, blushing furiously.

"Nothing, Bella," he sighed, frustrated. "Sit down." He sat up and patted the space next to him invitingly, willing away his body's reaction to what had just occurred.

She scrunched up her nose in displeasure, but did as she was told.

After a minute of heavy silence (and just as heavy breathing), Edward sighed again.

He hadn't meant to hurt her with his reluctance... however, he felt a certain amount of responsibility for her, and was not too keen on letting her do anything she regretted.

(And besides, he wanted to be the one to initiate things between them.)

Grasping for possible subjects, he asked her about her parents.

"Do you want to tell me about your parents? Or childhood?"

His softly spoken words combined with the concern he was expressing made her irritable.

"I thought you were sending me off to a shrink tomorrow."

"Don't."

Bella grimaced, stared at the walls and pretended she wasn't in her old bedroom. Maybe it would feel good to share.

"Daddy was... I don't know-,"

"Do you have to call him that?" Edward snapped. It sounded... _so much _like something a twenty-year-old shouldn't call her father.

Bella nodded.

"_Mom_ was always kind of... she always did what he told her, I think. It was ridiculous. When they weren't traveling, she always acted like... some perfect housewife."

She had a difficult time to find words. She had analyzed her past more deeply than she perhaps should have, and she supposed her childhood wasn't the most ideal.

"That's why you were upset this morning?" Edward asked, feeling the familiar sense of guilt again.

"I don't know."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she paused, "I was spoiled when I was little. I think I still am. I got a diamond necklace from Tiffany's on my tenth birthday. _Dad_ gave it to me. I like jewelry... designer clothes... things like that."

Edward smirked.

"I'll remember that."

"Good," she giggled.

"He hated it when I started high school. He never let me go out on the weekends... I still had a freaking nanny when they were abroad. I had enough when he cancelled my sweet sixteen party.

"After that, I started my... rebellion. Hung out with Jacob and his friends, got a fake ID... It was ridiculous. Dad hated me... stopped giving me things. And mom just tried to smooth things over. She never did anything to defend me."

Edward clenched his fists.

"Defend?"

Bella huffed and rolled her eyes. She knew Edward well enough now that she realized he assumed the worst.

"He never touched me, Edward, or hurt my mom. Don't be ridiculous."

She patted his fist in a move Edward found slightly patronizing. He glared at her, but immediately softened his expression when he saw hers. It was twisted into grief.

Edward made up his mind, thought of the guilt he'd felt since he'd met her, how he only seemed to make things harder for her. He wasn't what she needed.

She needed someone softer.

Someone less moody.

Someone who could comfort her and kiss her instead of punish her when she cried.

And definitely someone who_ didn't _remind her of her father.

But before he could voice his opinion, she hugged him tightly, seeming to never want to let go. Edward was thankful that she didn't appear to be crying.

Hesitantly, he hugged her back.

"You're not like him, I promise. You're good to me."

"_Right_," he breathed, kissing her hair.

He'd have to be better.

* * *

Jasper Whitlock was at the same time picking up his new lady friend from the Goldman Sachs building on Broad Street.

Why she felt like she had to work on a Sunday was beyond him, but nevertheless, he was patiently waiting by her desk as she dropped a few papers off in her boss' office.

Sitting down in her swivel-chair, he spun around a few times and the leaned over the papers that adorned the place, pulling a hand through his neatly combed curls.

Blaring alarms went off in his head when his eyes zoomed in on two very familiar names.

What. The. Hell?

"Alice!" he barked, just as she closed the office door.

"Jasper?" she sighed. What was wrong with all these men and their orders... She wasn't a bloody dog. Rolling her eyes, she sauntered over to her new _friend_ and peaked over his shoulder.

"What the_ hell _is this? Why do you have these papers?"

She stared dubiously at his handsome, panicked face, pursing her lips. His blue eyes penetrated hers accusingly.

"My boss asked for them."

"Why?" he ground out through clenched teeth, and swiftly reached for his cellphone.

This was bad news.

"_Be_cause," she spat, "he's dating their daughter."

Alice was a bright woman, and if her womanly intuition was right (which it _always_ was), this had something to do with Jasper's job. He was working for the Central Intelligence Agency (a thing he described as not nearly as glamorous as it sounded). Alice didn't know more than that, and it was perfectly fine with her.

After all, she was just as married to her job as Jasper was.

"He's not trying to investigate this any further, is he?" he snapped as Alice picked up her Mulberry bag from the floor.

"Not that I know of."

"Good. Make sure the bastard doesn't."

Alice shrugged at him. "Okay."

Jasper sighed deeply in relief. Edward Cullen was dating their daughter. Not..._ anything else. _The phone call could wait. No need for damage control.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "ready for our date?"

"No."

Alice flipped him off with a scowl on her face and pointed towards the corridor, telling Jasper to find the way out on his own.

No one treated her like that... and no one called Edward a bastard. Except for Alice.

* * *

_Huh, so the parents didn't even realize that they were rude._

_Imagine that._

_And what's up with Mr and Mrs Swan?_

_I'm not turning this into some crazy agent-story. Even though I was Sydney Bristow's biggest fan when I was younger._

_I'm not sure I'm turning it into anything. We'll see about the next update. Eeek._


End file.
